Witness
by lenk
Summary: BV. Bulma's a city business woman who stumbles on a killing. Vegeta and Goku are detectives assigned on Homicide Cold Cases. Now a serial killer has one obsession...HER!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is basically based on of my favorite books.  
  
DIS: I don't own DBZ. I so wish but sadly enough don't.

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**WITNESS  
**  
Chapter One  
  
North City  
  
July / Friday evening  
  
"Azure Princess, twenty-five, seeks Prince to carry her off to his castle and take care of her forever."  
  
"What do you think, dear?" Sophia Gero looked over the table at her new client.  
  
Bulma Briefs shifted in her chair, struggling for a response that wouldn't offend Sophia. She turned to her friend Juu for assistance, since she had been the one to talk her into joining a dating service in the first place.  
  
"Doesn't that caption sound like something to grab a man's attention, Bulma?" Sophia pressed.  
  
Deciding Juu wasn't going to help, Bulma thought about her options. She might have been tired after a long day-a long week, really-but not tired enough to let that gem go untouched. Joining the Gero's dating service was humiliating enough, but having a blurb like the one Sophia had suggested appear next to her picture would be pathetic. Bulma worked hard to look serious. "I was thinking more along the line of 'Businesswoman, twenty-five, has castle, seeks prince to help with upkeep and provides occasional foot massage.'" Bulma's deadpan expression was angelic. She had spent her formative years tormenting teachers in Lambert Academy in West City, so getting Sophia's back was easy.  
  
Sophia drew herself up straight in her chair, inhaling deep through her nose, while across the table, her daughter and business partner covered laughter with a cough. Juu Gero truly enjoyed seeing someone make her mother pucker up-it happened so rarely.  
  
"Mom, why don't you make sure the computer is set up for Bulma to view the eligible candidates. She and I could work on her bio later." Juu said, carefully to not met Bulma's gaze.  
  
Sophia surveyed them both for a long moment. "All right. But really, Bulma, you should put more thought into developing the caption to go with your picture in the catalogue. It's the first impression the male candidates will have of you, and you certainly don't want to come across as too flip. Or assertive. Men don't care for that in a young lady."  
  
Sophia pushed back from the table, straightened her skirt with practiced move, and went out the door of the conference room. Bulma looked closely at her departing figure, trying to see if Sophia, indeed, wearing nylons and a slip in the sweltering heat of North City summer. Bulma looked up and caught Juu rolling her eyes. They shared a moment of silent humor over Sophia's stodgy approach to both fashion and romance in the 21st century. Than Bulma straightened in her chair, turning dancing blue eyes to Juu. "Hey, I left out the part about 'providing foot massage in exchange for the occasional blow job."  
  
Juu laughed out loud. it was just like Bulma to say something outrageous and make her forget that it was after nine on a Friday evening, she had been working without a break for the last seven days. She'd had to stay late tonight to accommodate Bulma's busy schedule, but she didn't mind doing her friend this favor. Besides, it had been Juu's naggin that convinced Bulma to give the dating service a try in the first place. The least she could do was offer moral support.  
  
"I'm suddenly not sure about signing up for a dating service," Bulma said once she'd stopped laughing. "It seems so, I don't know, sad. Needy." That was one word she wouldn't use to describe herself. She hated being in a situation where the particular shoe might fit.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Juu said quickly, not wanting Bulma to back out now that she had finally dragged her in. "We went over this. You're paying for a service-special friend's price, I might add-just like getting your carpet cleaned or car washed. We're providing you with something you don't have time to do yourself. It's as simple as that."  
  
"Maybe, but I never had to fill out my preferences for eyes, hair, and build the carpet cleaner or car wash guy before." Bulma's eyes were serious, yet she gave a half smile. Juu had become a very close friend in the past six years because Bulma admired intelligence, guts, and determination. She didn't want to wimp out and waste everyone's time. "Oh, never mind. Let's go look at our selection of eligible studs in the catalogue before I lose my nerve completely."  
  
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Well that was the first chapter hope you enjoyed it. **PLEASE R & R**. Email me if you have any suggestions or to let me know what you think. **BUT PLEASE R & R**.  
  
**NOTE: I'll only update if I get reviews. Don't mean to be mean, K**.

LATERS


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all for your reviews. Here is Chapter two for all of you to enjoy.   
  
Dis: I do not own DBZ! I repeat, DO NOT OWN DBZ. Tear!**   
  
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**Chapter Two**   
  
Several hours later Bulma watched the elevator doors switched close on the offices of Camelot Dating Services, Inc. Finally, an end to what had to be on of the more humiliating evenings she had endured in her twenty-five years on the planet. How had she let Juu talk her into diving in the dating pool? And with a dating service-talk about the deep end. Bulma cringed every time she thought about it. After looking at hundreds pictures of male candidates, and reading hundreds of intros ranging from midly clever to downright cheesy, she was convinced she'd never find anyone worth dating in a single's catalogue. Monday she'd call Juu and tell her it had all been a big mistake. The elevator doors opened into the lobby. Bulma passed a heavyset security guard on her way out to the street.   
  
"Want me to call you a cab, miss?" The guard apparently hoped she would answer no, because he barely looked up from the magazine he was flipping through.   
  
"No, thank you. I'm just going to walk to 40th Circle and pick up my car there. I left it in a well guarded garage. It's just a couple of blocks from here."   
  
"Gonna get wet. Storms about to break." This was offered with another indolent flip of the pages, punctuated by a rumble of thunder outside.  
  
"I'm prepared-my umbrella is right here." She was always prepared. Checking the Weather Channel every morning before getting dressed was part of her comfortable daily routine.   
  
On her way out the heavy revolving door, she hesitated a moment too long before stepping through the opening. the door jammed on the full-length umbrella trailing behind her. She set her jaw, pulled the umbrella free, and left before seeing whether the noise had been enough to stir the security guard from the comfortable perch. As she hurried down the street, Bulma tried to open the mangled black expensive umbrella. It stopped opening after no more than a few inches. Leaves rustled as a gust of wind brought a light spatter of raindrops down across her silk blouse.  
  
"Beautiful. Chi is going to kill me." Bulma muttered out loud. The umbrella had been a present from her best friend Chichi, brought back from one of Rodeo Drive's finest boutiques.   
  
Bulma checked her watch as another gust of wind ruffled her collar. It was really getting late and she needed to still pick her car up. Despite the late hours, she chose a shortcut across the grounds of one of the areas numerous schools. she took a canister of pepper spray from her small leather Italian purse and trotted across the poor lit area. As she hurried across the blacktop playground, she rehearsed what she would tell Juu when she canceled her dating service membership on Monday.   
  
'Just tell her you've had terrible luck dating in the past, that it's only ever brought boredom or disaster.' Bulma ducked her head to keep the rain out of her eyes. 'Tell her you've come to your senses and aren't really that desperate for someone to go with you to museum exhibitions and quiet dinners.' She laughed humorlessly at her own pitiful dating aspirations.  
  
Lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the lonely playground with its creaking swings and jungle gym. Bulma paused. lightning came again. She counted the seconds until the thunder as she struggled to open her umbrella. No luck. Raindrops came faster now, driven by the sticky, restless wind. A few curls were pulled from a neat twist she wore while at work. As she pushed hair back out of her face, she began to jog in earnest, thinking of the shelter that her car would provide. If the storm got really bad, she thought of the bill for cleaning her clothes and car. Right now the rain was a welcome break from the night's oppressive humidity.  
  
Bulma rounded a corner and saw a dark shape about ten feet away. When lightning flashed, she saw the shape was a man. He had his back from her and was leaning over something. Abruptly he bent down and moved his right arm in several precise, controlled motions. As he rose and turned towards her, she saw that he was standing over a woman sprawled on her back, dead eyes open to the rain-filled sky. Bulma's heart stopped. An icy-hot feeling slithered through her belly. her pulse pounded in her ears, blocking out the sound of wind and thunder.  
  
as lightning flashed again, her stunned eyes shifted from the body on the ground to the man. He was looking directly at her, holding a long object in his right hand. Slowly his lips turned up into an odd, closed-mouth smile she stared in shock, focused on his mouth, as the image of a photo flashed in her mind. Her paralyzed lungs filled with a gasp.   
  
'She had seen him before.' The man lunged at her. 'A knife, He has a knife.'  
  
Bulma's survival instinct kicked in, along with a dozen years of single-women-living-alone advice. She blasted the man with pepper spray and flung the useless umbrella in an awkward left-handed throw. He made a hoarse sound as the spray hit his forehead and splashed his eyes.  
  
'Run, Bulma. Run!' Heeding the voice screaming inside her head she dropped her expensive Italian leather purse and the now useless canister of pepper spray and ran. When she looked back for a second, she saw that the killer was holding his hands to his eyes as he turned his face up to steady rain. She knew the spray would only buy her five seconds, ten at the most, since she'd missed hitting his eyes directly. She kicked of her high black business pumps and hit her full running speed within a few strides. Soon her breath was rasping in and out of her lungs. When she risked one more glance back, she saw the killer running after her.   
  
'Oh, Kami. Oh, Kami.' She snapped her head forward and refused to look again.  
  
'Where should I go? Back to Camelot and the pudgy security guard?' She paused for a heartbeat, then decided to take her chances with the Friday night crowds at 40th Circle restaurants and clubs.   
  
Feet pounded closer behind her. She pushed her burning legs into running faster. She was in decent shape from regular workouts, but sprinting wasn't part of her routine. Her bare feet slapped on the slick pavement as fast as she could make them move. Raindrops hit her mouth as she tried to breath. They tasted sweet, and eased the dryness of her lips. She could feel the force of the man's will reaching out to her. It was almost a physical touch. She was terrified that he would feel his hand grab her shoulder or hair at any time. With a tight sound of fear and exertion, she turned left and raced down a dark back street filled with dumpsters and   
  
cardboard boxes. She thought their was a bar or something in the corner at the end of the alley. It never occurred to Bulma to call for help. With her body in pure survival mode and her throat paralyzed by fear, she focused on escape. She had to get to a safe place before he caught up with her.  
  
'Kami, how long is this street?' She felt as she was running a flat out yet standing still. The end of the alley seemed no closer than when she started. For the first time she wondered if she would get away. Then she heard the sawing breath of the man behind her and knew if he caught her she would die. Fresh adrenaline shot through her, giving her a rush of strength. She opened the gap between herself and the man chasing her.  
  
When she finally reached the street, Bulma's instincts took her to the right. Her heart sank when she saw the area was empty-no cars, no pedestrians, everyone had been driven inside by the summer rain that continued to pour down in wind-driven waves. But the faint pulse beat of the music drew her forward. Two doors up the street she saw neon light coming from the windows set at basement level-a nightclub. A set of dark metal stairs was all that separated Bulma from safety. She threw herself down the steps as fast as she could force her trembling legs to move.  
  
Risking one more glance behind her, Bulma didn't see any sign of the man chasing her, but she knew he could come around the corner at any moment. She paused for a moment to look again, and the momentary break in her rhythm caused her bear feet to slip on the metal stairs. Between heartbeat and the next, her feet went down under her. With a defeated cry, she felt herself falling. When she struck the back of her head with brutal force on the metal edge of a stair, the world when brightly white, then black.  
  
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**A/N** well I hope you enjoyed Chapter 2 of Witness. Let me know what you think alright. Any suggestions and POV's are greatly welcomed and will be taken in consideration. Just email ok!  
  
Also **Please R & R**. At least 5 reviews that's all I ask for, K. **JUST 5 REVIEWS & UPDATE WILL BE MUCH SOONER!  
**  
_LATERS!_


	3. Chapter 3

**DIS: I do not own DBZ   
**  
**Chapter 3**  
  
"Bitch!" the man couldn't believe she had outrun him. "What was she, a fucking gazelle?"  
  
He'd planned the evening perfectly-things were supposed to go smoothly , just like the other time. And everything had, until she'd shown up. Frustrated rage gave him strength. He threw himself around the corner of the alley and into the street, a moment of rational thought slowed him down. He looked around; the woman was gone.  
  
"Did she get away?" he paused to clam his breathing. His other senses began to process the surrounding environment- the wet pavement smell and the steam rising lazily off the street. The thunderstorm was moving east, leaving behind cooler temperature. As his breathing slowed, he heard music nearby, a throbbing undertone of bass that penetrated the sound of the rain. The volume increased. Doors opened, and a rush of voices added to the din. The man slowly approached a stairway that led down to the source of the music. He glanced up at the sign over the entrance.  
  
SUDS 'N STUDS-Ladies Only.  
  
"A strip bar. How very tacky." cautiously looking around the corner and down the stairway, he saw a mass of women huddled around something on the steps. The gazelle, apparently.  
  
"Is she breathing?"  
  
"Kami, what happened?"  
  
"Her eyes are twitching, is she having a seizure?"  
  
The questions came rapid fire, directed to no one in particular. Bellowing for someone to call 911, a muscled bouncer tried to clear the excited patrons away the stairs. From just inside the doors, a woman pushed through the crowd, shouting that she was a doctor. The stopped abruptly.  
  
The killer took in the scene, assessing his options. Too many witnesses. He'd better cut his loses. The injured woman wouldn't be able to clearly identify him-it had been rainy and dark. Besides, he'd take care of her soon enough. He turned away form the strip bar and headed down towards 40th Circle. Once he was a few blocks away, he paused under a streetlight to pull the gazelle's small leader purse from his jacket. He'd stopped to pick up the handbag, which was one of the reasons she'd outrun him. At least that's what he told him self. He flipped opened the wallet, quickly reading the information on her driver's license. Bulma Briefs, 25, Royal Gardens address. And keys to let him in. the man's mouth twisted upwards in a cruel smile.   
  
"You're dead, Bulma Briefs."  
  
00000  
  
Officer Puar Rochi had responded to the call at the SUDS 'N STUDS before. When it came over the radio that a woman was down in front of the entrance, he figured this would be a fairly routine incident involving Friday night, alcohol, and a boisterous strip club. Backup was on the way, and the ambulance was a couple of minutes behind him. It should be an open-and-shut report. He figured to back on the streets before 2 a.m.   
  
Rochi stepped out of his patrol car. He automatically moved to put the nightstick in its belt loop, shifting his love handles briefly when they interfered with his process. He grabbed the shoulder microphone to radio back that he had arrived on the scene. His first job would be to find someone that knew what had happened. He went down the stairs to get a look at the victim and start gathering information.   
  
"Stand back, everyone, coming through." The words came automatically from Roshi's mouth.   
  
He saw a huge, heavily muscled guy in a sea of females. "You the bouncer? Get everyone back in the club and clear the way from the paramedics." he pitched his voice louder. "Ladies, the show is over, please go back inside and let us do our job."  
  
The crown reluctantly began breaking up. Most of the woman stopped just inside the open double doors to the club, milling and chatting about how awful it was, stretching their necks to get one last glimpse of the scene.  
  
"You a nurse?" he asked a woman who had remained crouched next to the unconscious victim, monitoring her pulse.  
  
The woman looked up in deep irritation but kept a hand on the victim's shoulder as if to hold her own. "No, I'm a doctor. Third-year resident." when the officer looked surprised, she rolled her eyes. "They do have woman doctors, you know."  
  
He sighed. Great-attitude to go along with his late night call. He got out hi notebook. "She slip down the steps, then?"  
  
"I don't know. Some women came out of the club and said they found her at the bottom of the stairs. Nobody knows her. She took a hell of a blow to the stairs."  
  
Roshi raised his eyebrows. "You Don't think she just fell in the rain? Maybe had too much to rink?"  
  
"I'll tell you what I do know-the victim has a serious head wound. She was disoriented and incoherent , and kept trying to get up when I first arrived. She's got no ID, no purse. And look here-she's barefoot and there are cuts all over the soles of her feet." the doctor lifted a white bar towel that had been wrapped around the victim's feet. She paused, then spoke softly." she was also saying some pretty scary stuff."  
  
The op came to attention. Leaning over to look at the woman's dirty, bloodied feet, he made notes in his book. "What kinda stuff?"  
  
"They were broken phrases. Like I said, she was disoriented. I did catch a couple of them, though. 'He killed her. I saw them, at the school. Run!' she repeated that last one while struggling to sit up. We had to get the bouncer to hold her down."  
  
"She seems quiet now-think she'll be all right?"  
  
"I don't know." the young doctor reached again to take he victim's pulse. "I'm not a neurologist. She lost consciousness just before you arrived., but her vital signs are stable. She needs to get to a hospital and have a CT scan done. If the injury is sever enough, she might need surgery."  
  
The doctor gently pushed back wet blue curls from the woman's white face, then checked her pupils with the bouncer's flashlight. Roshi left the steps and went to talk to one of the officers that had arrived as backup.   
  
"Start talking to witnesses inside. I'll get the doc's contact info and get the victim on her way to the hospital."   
  
An ambulance siren grew slowly louder, its sound distorted buy the humid night air. Roshi cleared the crowd that had began to form again by the time the ambulance arrived. The doctor was giving two paramedics instructions as they strapped the victim onto the backboard, and several firemen waited to help carry the unconscious woman up the stairs. As the group reached the ambulance doors, the doctor approached him.   
  
"I'm going to ride to the hospital with her." She stopped, took a deep breath, then spoke before she lost her nerve. "Look, there's a school a couple of blocks from here. A middle school or something. I don't want to tell you how to do your job, but if you'd seen hoe scared she was…" The woman's voice trailed off.  
  
"Don't worry, Doc. I'm on my way over there right no. we'll check it out."  
  
Roshi helped the doctor into the ambulance and closed the doors, banging his fist twice on the side in a signal for the driver's to take off.  
  
00000  
  
**A/N :** Well that was Chapter 3 for you. Let me know what you think. I will like to apologize up front. The reason why the chapter didn't come out earlier was because my comp did an auto format on my disk. Thank you for your understanding. I would love to thank the people that have R &R my story. Thank you.

You know the drill as always **PLEASE R & R**. It will take **5 reviews** for next update to be sooner.

_LATERS_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Hello everyone. Well this is the Forth Chapter to Witness. I like to thank every one that has sent in reviews. This extra long I dedicate to all of you. Also I started out a new story called ASSASSINS. If you like to check it out. Well enough talking. Let the show begin.  
  
**DIS: DO NOT OWN DBZ! I REPEAT DO NOT OWN DBZ!  
**  
00000  
  
**Chapter 4  
**  
North City   
  
Saturday morning  
  
Detective Vegeta Ouji swore luridly when his pager went off in the darkness, sounding like a crazed hornet as it buzzed on the nightstand. His curses became more creative when he saw the time. 2 a.m. He'd worked until an hour ago on one of the cases he was investigating. He worked in the cold cases section of the Homicide Division for the NCPD. Along with his partner, Vegeta handled cases that had no clues, few leads, and no real suspects after six to twelve months of active investigation. He was assigned to these difficult cases full time, but there weren't enough hours in the day to do the job, so he often worked nights as well.  
  
He grabbed his phone and dialed the number in the pager's glowing display.  
  
"Ouji. What's up?" he said in a rusty voice.   
  
"Vegeta, my man, you owe me big for this."   
  
The voice belonged to a cheerful night person. Officer Nappa Saiyan often sat up until dawn listening to his police scanner and monitoring the communication of other N.C. Police Department staff.   
  
"How about I be the judge of that, Nappa? What've you got?"  
  
"A call came through a little while ago. Murder at a school near 40th Circle. Young female, multiple stab wounds. She was practically still warm." Nappa drew his story out with relish.   
  
"I'm listening." Vegeta said, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly.  
  
"Seems the victim, a dark-haired female in her mid-twenties, was stabbed in the lower abdomen three or four times with a really big knife. No other sign of trauma. No sexual assault, no robbery."  
  
Vegeta's pulse picked up. The preliminary description was similar to two other murders he was working with the Cold Case Unit-cases he believed were related. But there wasn't enough evidence to bear out this theory yet. His other cases involved prostitutes who were also drug addicts, women on the seamy edge of society.   
  
"Was the victim a working girl?"  
  
"Not clear yet. But here's what you're really going to like. They've got a witness, someone they think saw the crime"  
  
"You're shitting me." Vegeta jumped to his feet and reached for the jeans he had left hanging over the back of a chair. " Who? Where is he right now?" He pulled the jeans on over his boxers, then put on and buttoned his shirt one-handed while feeling around blindly with his feet in search of shoes.  
  
"Hang on a second, I'm getting to it. The report is that an unidentified women fell down the stairs at SUDS 'N STUDS. That's a male strip club on 40th Circle. According to people who helped her at the scene, she was incoherent and hysterical, saying something about seeing a man kill a woman at a school. The first officer on the scene went to a middle school off the Circle, just to check things out. He found the murder and called it in. Then I called you."  
  
Where's the witness now?" Vegeta asked.  
  
He turned the light, slipped on his shoulder harness, checked that the weapon on the nightstand was ready to go, and put it in the holster.  
  
"She knocked herself silly, probably from falling down the stairs. She was taken to NC Hospital, but I don't think you can see her yet. She was apparently unconscious when they left the club, so she'll probably be tied up in the ER for a while."  
  
"Damn. Is she going to be to be all right?"  
  
"Officer on the scene couldn't say. Why don't you head out to the school first, talk to him if he's still there? Name's Puar Roshi. You can swing by the hospital in the morning."  
  
"I'm on my way. What's the address?" Vegeta scribbled the information on a tablet while attaching his pager and cell phone to his belt. "I owe you big time, buddy."  
  
"I know." Nappa's tone said he would enjoy collecting. "You want me to call Goku for you?"  
  
"Not yet. His lady friend got back in town last night and is leaving again tomorrow, so he's probably, ah, engaged right now. Anyway, I've been working the other two cases most recently. I'll give him a call when I get a feel for whether this murder is related to the other. I'll have my cell phone on if you hear anything more."  
  
Vegeta hung up and headed out the door. He reached the scene of the murder within thirty minutes. Despite the fact that it was nearly 3 a.m., gawkers were gathered around the site, drawn by the flashing lights and predawn activity. They were held back by yellow crime scene tape, with a uniformed officer on the other side.  
  
Vegeta pushed his way through a knot of milling teenagers. "Kami, where are your parents? Let me get through, here-and go home!"   
  
Even though he was a head taller and much stronger than the teens, they gave him a lot of attitude. He ignored it, flipped open his ID for the uniform on duty, and asked, "Where's Roshi?"  
  
"Over there," the cop said, pointing towards a patrolman by the victim's body.  
  
"Officer Roshi?" Vegeta called out to him.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Vegeta approached him, ID in hand. "Detective Vegeta Ouji. I'm with the Homicide Cold Case Unit. I want to see if there might be some overlap with this murder and a couple of ongoing investigations."  
  
"What makes you think there's a connection? Forensics hasn't even assessed the scene yet."   
  
Obviously Roshi was feeling a little protective of his crime scene, but if the cases were linked, Vegeta's claim would precedence.   
  
"Similarities in the victim's physical profile, cause of death, and a hunch," Vegeta said. "If you'll tell me what you know about this victim, I'll get out of your hair and wait for the report to come out. I just wanted to see the crime scene myself."  
  
Roshi raised his eyebrows. "Victim is in her mid-twenties, dark hair slender build. No sign of sexual assault, but we'll wait for the medical examiner to confirm. Cause of death looks to be multiple stab wounds to the abdomen. Her purse was found nearby, wallet inside. Credit cards, driver's license, and eighteen dollars in cash. She has gold jewelry as well, so I'm thinking robbery wasn't the motive."  
  
"Do you recognize her from the streets? Does she have any kind of record?"  
  
"Nah, she's not a working girl. The name on the ID comes back as a teacher at this school, Renata Mendes."   
  
Vegeta processed the information. The victim's physical profile fit with the other cases, all young Hispanic females. But not the teacher bit. The two other murdered women had been addicts who had sold their bodies to support crack or meth habits. "What kind of stab wounds?"  
  
"Big ones. Lots of blood."  
  
"Any defensive wounds?"  
  
"Not so you can tell looks like the perp was a strong guy, and he probably surprised her."  
  
That fit. "Who reported the murder?"  
  
"Now that's the funny part. Seems there might be a witness. In fact, that's what sent us up here in the first place." He briefed Vegeta on the incident with the woman injured at the SUDS 'N STUDS club.   
  
"Were you able to speak to her?" Vegeta asked over the sudden squawking of Roshi's radio.   
  
"Nah. She was out cold when I go there, but people on the scene confirmed what she said right after she was found." Roshi reached up to silence the radio on his shoulder "my gut says she saw something that scared her half to death. She's in the ER right now."  
  
"Thanks. I'll take a look around, then get out of your way."  
  
Vegeta turned away and went to the victim's body, where evidence technicians were starting their work. They bustled around, testing equipment and setting up freestanding lights to illuminate the area for the video cameras. While the techs worked on the lights, Vegeta borrowed a flashlight form one of the patrolmen and briefly reconnoitered the area around the victim. He crouched over a bent umbrella and a leather-wrapped canister of pepper spray, or maybe mace. Both objects had paint around them, waiting to be photographed and tagged as evidence.   
  
Vegeta made a mental note to check if the fingerprint analysis came up with anything that could connect the items to the victim. A little farther away, he found two more objects. High-heeled woman's shoes, sprawled a couple of feet apart, size 7 ½. Glancing over at the victim, she saw sensible black flats on her feet.  
  
"OK, team, we're ready to start." one of the technicians shouted. The forensics team had the scene lit up like center stage at a Vegas show.   
  
Stepping closer to the victim, Vegeta examined the body objectively. He had seen death before, yet still he had to work to distance himself from the victim's humanity and vulnerability.   
  
This one had hazel eyes that were wide open. Her mouth was open as well, as if she had died crying out. Vegeta's lips thinned as he took in the victim's clothing , hairstyle, jewelry. She looked like a kid. Crouching down, he examined the stab wounds more closely. A descent-sized blade had been used. One stab alone would have been mortal from the look of things, yet there were at least four other wounds. Something to keep in mind about the murderer-he enjoyed his work and believed in overkill.  
  
A technician shifted piece of equipment, throwing a stark light across the victim from a different angle. Vegeta focused immediately on a cloth loop at the woman's slender waist. Shifting around, he saw an identical bit of fabric on the other side. It looked like she had been wearing a belt, but he didn't see it anywhere.  
  
Vegeta motioned to one of the technicians. "Did one of you guys find a belt or sash? It looks like there was one here-see the loops? She wouldn't the dress with these things just hanging off her sides, would she?"  
  
The forensics tech studied the victim and nodded his agreement. He made a note on his tiny laptop and called out questions to his team members.  
  
No one had seen any belt.  
  
All of the victim's other articles were there next to her body. Vegeta looked over her effect-a straw purse and umbrella, a Mickey Mouse key ring with four keys attached. No belt.  
  
"We'll look for it," the tech assured Vegeta.   
  
"Good, but I don't think you'll find anything."   
  
"Why not? Looks like maybe this was a robbery attempt or something. Sure, her money and stuff is right here," the techs said, "but word is the killer was interrupted by a witness, which would explain why the valuables got left behind."  
  
Vegeta's eyes were pale black and cold in the artificial light. "I think our killer got exactly what he wanted from this victim, and he wanted from this victim, and the kept a little something to remember her by."  
  
"You think the guy wanted a trophy? The belt? the tech sounded excited. "Hey, I bet you're right!"  
  
Vegeta didn't say anything. Sometimes he hated being right.  
  
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**A/N:** Well that's the forth chapter. I really hope you liked it. This is dedicated to all the people that read and review my story. Also I want to make it clear I have nothing against the working girls out there and Hispanic women. I have nothing against them cause I have Hispanic and Latin relatives (friends, brother in laws, sister in laws, nephews and nieces) so you see it impossible to have something against them. Also don't forget to check out my new story called **ASSASINS**.  
  
Besides this whole thing. Don't forget to **R&R** very important that you **R&R**.   
  
It will take **5 REVIEWS** in order for my update to be up a lot sooner, ok.  
  
_Laters_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Hello, hello! This is Chapter 5 of Witness. Hope everyone enjoys this Chapter. I would like to thank the people that take the time to read and review my fic. This Chapter I dedicate to all of you.

**DIS: I DO NOT OWN DBZ!!!**

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**Chapter 5**

Vegeta's instincts were screaming all the way to North City Hospital. Even at this very preliminary stage, he was betting the murder of Renata Mendes was connected to at least one of the cases he and his partner were investigating. If the crimes were related, and if they could get anything from the eyewitness, it might give them the first real lead in close to a year. And if he could pull enough strings with the captain to get assigned to the Mendes case, which wasn't cold at the moment.

'BIG IFS.'

It was time for reinforcements. He hit the speed dial on his cell phone and imagined Goku Son's irritation with relish. Waking up his cousin, who was also his partner on the Cold Cases Unit, was always a pleasure. Moments later his partner's sleepy voice came across the line.

"This better be good, Vegeta."

"Don't you love caller ID? Hey, did I wake you?" Vegeta's voice tone was upbeat.

"Of coarse not. It's what, four a.m.? Why would I be asleep?" Goku's tone wasn't happy.

"Sorry, partner, but I think we might have a break on the Herrera case," Vegeta said.

"What have you got?" His partner's voice wasn't sleepy anymore.

"I'd rather meet you at NC Hospital's ER, have you talk to a witness, and let you make your own assessment." Vegeta trusted his cousin without qualification. If he was jumping at shadows, Goku would be the first to tell him so. Goku would also be the first to back Vegeta if he was right.

His cousin sighed loudly. "I'll be right over."

A murmured feminine protest came clearly across the line. Vegeta snickered. Goku's girlfriend was a consultant whose job kept her constantly on the road.

"Apologize to her for me. You'll make it up to her on her next trip through town. In a couple of months or so."

"Blow me. No, not you, darlin'." Goku yawned. "See you at the hospital in half an hour."

Vegeta hung up and turned into the hospital driveway. A few minutes later he strode into the ER and flashed his badge at the desk clerk. "I'm looking for a Jane Doe brought in with head injuries a little while ago."

"The doctors are with her in curtain three. I'll page them."

"Never mind. I can find it."

Vegeta went through the doors into the heart of the ER. He walked toward a curtained area and saw a doctor standing in front of the green drape, giving instructions to a nurse.

"Doctor? I'm Detective Ouji. Is this our Jane Doe back here?"

"I'm Dr. Springer. Actually, she's not a Jane Doe any longer. She regained consciousness briefly after her head CT and was able to give us her name and address. That's an excellent sign."

"So she's going to be okay?" Vegeta asked.

"It looks like she will. Her test results were good-a serious concussion, a nice bump, a couple of stitches, but no skull fracture. She has a very hard head." Dr. Springer smiled briefly at Vegeta, then continued. "She's still pretty dazed, so we haven't pressed her much beyond her basic information."

Vegeta got out his notebook. "What's her name?"

"Bulma Briefs. Twenty-five years of age, lives in Royal Gardens."

"When can I speak to her?" Vegeta pocketed the notebook impatiently, already starting toward the curtain.

The doctor held up a hand to stop him. "My patient is resting right now. She's in pain, but we can't give her much to ease it. She'll be admitted to the hospital as soon as they can find a bed for her upstairs. She'll likely be here for a couple of days."

"I don't want to disturb anyone, but it is critical that I speak to her as soon as possible. This woman is a potential eyewitness in a homicide investigation." Vegeta's intense look overrode the doctor's objections. "What's more, nobody gets into this area without authorization, post a guard and let your staff know."

Dr. Springer nodded, stifling a yawn. "I'll be back to check on her in a while."

Vegeta walked through the curtain, eager to see his witness. The first thing he noticed was her hair, lying in a halo of aqua curls around her face. Her skin was very pale, with no freckles or blemishes to detract from its ivory smoothness. Her face was finely chiseled and delicate with well-shaped elegant brows, a small straight nose, and full lips. He pulled his gaze from the woman's face and moved on to the rest of her, automatically estimating her height at under five and a half feet. He took in her curvy build text. The slow rise and fall of her nicely shaped breast, the indentation at her waist, and the lush flare hips beneath the light sheet. He stepped back to better absorb the image of the woman lying in the hospital bed. Well, well. Even laid up in a hospital bed, Bulma Briefs was a knockout.

Her hand lifted from the bed and moved towards her face. When she reached to touch the back of her head, he jumped forward to stop her.

"Easy, now. You don't want to be messing with those stitches just yet."

She made a soft sound, trying to pull her hand free. She wanted to rub the painful spot on the back of her head.

"Ms. Briefs, can you hear me?" Vegeta kept one hand wrapped gently around hers to keep her from disturbing the bandages. "Ms. Briefs? Are you awake?"

As he watched intently, long lashes fluttered, then opened. His insides squeezed at the pain in her dazed blue eyes.

"It's all right," he said. "You're in the hospital, but you're okay." he kept his voice gentle and soothing as he stroked her hand. He wanted to erase the shattered look he'd seen in her eyes, to help ease her slowly into full awareness.

"Who are you?" she whispered, as if speaking were painful. "What happened?"

"Don't you remember?" Vegeta's stomach lurched. Maybe the doctor had been wrong and she was severely injured. "Do you know your name?"

"Bulma. Bulma Briefs." she blinked once, then again. Long, slow blinks. "Who are you?"

"Detective Ouji. Can you tell me what happened to you tonight?"

Bulma rested with her eyes closed for a moment, her forehead creased in distress. Vegeta could practically feel the wave of pain rolling of her eyes. He pressed the call button next to her bed to summon a nurse.

"I don't know. My head hurts." her voice broke on the last word.

"I'm sure it does. I called for a nurse." another stroke of his hand over hers. "Do you remember being near 40th Circle tonight? Did you see anything there?" Vegeta knew he was probably pushing too hard, but he was afraid she would drift into sleep again. He needed any information she had and he needed it now.

She met his intense dark gaze "I'm sorry. I can't think right now. It hurts." She winced and looked away, turning her head gingerly on the pillow. She was asleep before taking another breath.

Vegeta forced back his frustration. Yes, he needed information, but she was clearly exhausted and in pain. He would have to wait for a few hours. He sat on the edge of the bed to wait, keeping his hold on Bulma's warm fingers.

"How's she doing?" Goku Son asked. He was standing in the entrance to ER curtain three, filling the empty space with the broad shoulders. Vegeta had been so absorbed that he hadn't noticed his cousin's arrival.

"She's hurting. She has a concussion, and they're going to keep her for a few more days. She'll go upstairs in a couple of minutes," Vegeta said without looking away from Bulma.

Goku said nothing, observing the way his partner held the woman's hand. Vegeta was always gentle with the victims and families they dealt with in their investigations, but he wasn't normally this touchy-feely. Vegeta looked up, caught Goku's speculative dark brown gaze, and lifted his eyebrow.

"Pretty lady." Goku's voice was neutral. "Bulma, is it?"

Vegeta nodded. "She's a lucky lady, too. You should have seen the girl that didn't get away."

"I heard-I talked to Nappa on the way down. How did this one escape?" Goku gestured toward the bed with his chin.

"I don't have any information from her yet. I found a can of pepper spray near the body, plus a bent umbrella and a pair of shoes that didn't belong to the dead girl. When Bulma was admitted, her feet were bare, cut and scratched."

"Go on."

"My guess is she surprised our killer in the act. He must have come after her. She hit him with the spray, kicked off her pumps, and ran like hell." Vegeta's voice was admiring.

Goku assessed the sleeping woman, taking in her average height and pale, fragile appearance. Looks could be deceptive. From what Vegeta was saying, this was a woman who didn't play the victim willingly. "That took balls."

"Yeah. We can't confirm yet whether the killer chased her, but I'm betting he did. He just didn't catch her. The club where she was found is several blocks from the school, and no one reported seeing any strange men hanging around. Since it was a female-only club. I'm guessing that a guy would have stood out."

Goku was quiet for a moment, digesting the information and letting his own analysis fill in the blanks. "You think we have a serial killer here. The Dominguez and Herrera cases, now this."

"Exactly. Three dark-haired, slender women of Hispanic descent, all stabbed in the abdomen with a large blade in the last two years. Other pieces don't seem to fit, but I think it's all there for us to dig up. I can't leave Bulma until I take her statement, but I want you to go to the crime scene and have a look around, talk to some of the forensics team, then let me know if you agree."

Goku heard what wasn't said-Vegeta wanted him to validate the serial killer theory before they took it to their boss. The unspoken communication between the two men, a result of being raised together, made them a powerful investigation team.

"On my way. You take care of our witness," Goku said, "Call me when she wakes up."

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**A/N: **Well this is the end of chapter number 5. So what do you think like it or no chance in heaven. Tell me what you think. Just want to remind everyone I have nothing against HISPANIC OR LATIN PEOPLE. I made my reasons clear on the last chapter. Also want you to know that this chapter is dedicated to all of you who take the time to read and review.

**DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW. 5 REVIEWS AND I UPDATE SOONER.**

P.S. check out my new fic in titled: **ASSASSINS.**

_Laters _


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Hello everybody! Well I finally finished this chapter. It was kind of hard trying to write it and get it up asap. But school and home work got in the way. I started college already and it's a killer. Anyways so sorry for the delay on this chapter. Hope you could forgive me. I dedicate this chapter to all the people that take the time to read and review this story. As of a big reminder to all of you. This story is based on one of my favorite books. Just thought I remind you all. Well enough with wasting any more time. Enjoy this chapter.

**DIS: FYI - You know I don't own DBZ. **

**Chapter 6**

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_North City_

_Saturday, 9 a.m._

An insistent hand briskly shook Bulma's shoulder the ritual had been repeated many times that morning. Bulma was getting use to being shaken awake just as she was falling deeply asleep. She generally dozed right off after they left her alone, but she was getting irritated with constant interruptions. Sleep was important, and she wasn't getting any. She opened her eyes. Looking around, she remembered that she was in the hospital, in a white-on-white private room. There was an older man standing right next to her who looked vaguely familiar. She jolted when the man pried her lids wide open and flashed a penlight across her face. White coat, fifty-something, receding hairline, tired brown eyes. His name was...yes, Dr. Springer.

The doctor checked her pupils a second time while asking her some question. At this point Bulma didn't feel like her head was going to explode. Bulma followed all the small instructions that were given to her. As the doctor finished his check up, he believed a good Q and A was in order. He wanted to know if her neurological health was well. Knowing well that with the kind of hit she took it could cause sever damage like cognitive functions, even memory loss.

Bulma answered almost all the questions, but when it came to exactly what happened the night before she had no idea. She couldn't remember anything beyond getting off from work. She told the doctor she remembered having an appointment with a friend. The doctor tried to push a bit further to see if she recall anything beyond that point. No such luck. Bulma didn't remember going, just the fact that she was going to meet with Juu. She let the doctor know that flashes, like photographs came to her. She remembered a man with ebony hair and black eyes that she saw besides her bed. The doctor explained everything that had happened and that the guy was Detective Ouji. After their chat the doctor left and asked her to remain relaxed and rest. Bulma was once again alone in the private room. She tried really hard to remember any event from last night. But the whole thing just made her head hurt up to the point of feeling like if it was about to explode.

As she was about to settle back in the bed something flashed in her mind. It was quick just like seeing a snapshot of something. It was a man but she didn't see his face just his cruel smile. As hard as she tried to shake the awful sensation, she just couldn't. The doctor had given her details of the whole event and by all means they weren't pretty. She wanted to remember enough to give to the police and resting was one thing that would help her. She settled in her bed and meditated on the horrible details of Friday night. She thought about the man responsible for them, she wouldn't have control over her life. And that was one thing Bulma Briefs would not give into. She wouldn't let the killer take away a safe a comfortable life she had built for herself, too. She closed her eyes and almost instantly began to dream about dark eyes, photographs and cruel smiles.

_North City _

_Saturday afternoon_

Bulma emerged from a deep sleep, that she hadn't moved in hours. As her mind slowly came awake, she took stock of herself. Her head still hurt but not as badly as it did hours ago. She stretched gently, testing the rest of her body. Her thigh and calf muscles were stiff, and her feet were sore, but everything else was in good shape-except her memory.

She opened her eyelids and looked directly into a compelling brown gaze. Tilting her head she studied them. They were set in a wide face with strong cheekbones, a square jaw, and nicely shaped lips. As she continued to stare, the lips moved in a smile. A very charming smile. He looked to be in his late twenties, though he sprawled in an armchair with the ease of a teenager. He seemed vaguely familiar, but he wasn't one of the doctors, which meant he had to be the detective.

"I thought your eyes were black," she said.

"Nope. They're brown." The room door opened and the man next to her gestured with his chin. "My cousin's eyes are black."

She turned to look at the newcomer. Here were the black eyes that had punctuated her dreams. She couldn't believe she hadn't remembered the rest of the package, as well. Ebony hair, tall, athletic build with broad shoulders and a truly striking face. He was certainly handsome. His power laid in his dark eyes, which weighed the world with tangible intelligence.

"I see you two have met." Dark Eyes approached the bed, holding out a cup of coffee to the other man.

"We were just getting there. Why don't you make the introductions?" Brown Eyes and Charming smile took the coffee and sipped from the steamy container.

"This is Goku Son, my cousin and partner. I'm Vegeta Ouji, in case you don't remember me. We're both detectives with NCPD's Homicide Division. Goku, meet Ms. Bulma Briefs." Though he spoke to the other man, Vegeta's black eyes continued to look intently at Bulma.

"Please, just Bulma. Ms. Bulma Briefs just sounds to formal. Only people in the office call me that. Besides I think formalities could be overlooked at this point, detectives." She said with the nicest smile she could come up with. As the words echoed in the room, her smile dimmed. Detectives. These men were here to take her statement about a series of deadly events she couldn't even recall.

"Bulma it is," Goku said. "Is there anyone we can call for you? Family, boyfriend, roommate?"

"I don't have a family here in the city, but-Chichi! I have to call her. What time its it? We were supposed to have lunch together. She'll be frantic." Bulma sat up and flung her back the sheet to reach for the phone. Instead her hands grabbed her head. "Damn it."

"Easy does it." Vegeta caught Bulma's bandaged feet before they touched the floor. "No sense in in breaking open these cuts or fainting and hitting your head again. Goku will call your friend while we talk."

Vegeta gently swiveled her legs back on the bed and drew the sheet over their pale, distracting length. He had to work very hard to keep his eyes on her and off the sleekly muscled line of her calf and thigh. Even with the distraction of her pounding head, Bulma shivered at the touch of his hands. Considering the fact that she had been handled like a piece of meat by complete strangers ever since entering the hospital, she told herself that her reaction was ridiculous. But this man didn't feel like a stranger. She looked away from Vegeta's face to his hands. They were very nice-large, with long, tapered fingers and neatly trimmed nails. She tried to recall what Chichi had said about a man with big hands. Then she remembered, and blushed.

"Do you remember your friend's number?" Goku asked as she was brought out of her thoughts by his voice.

Bulma gave him the number and he walked to the far end of the room, dialing his cell phone as he went. Vegeta waited until she faced him again. When she simply studied him for a long moment, he raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Sorry, I just feel like-you seem so familiar." she said a bit embarrassed.

He was surprised she felt the same way he did, a kind of visceral recognition of the other person. It had been bothering him. So he told her what he had been telling himself. "I've been sitting by your bed for almost twelve hours, and sometimes you'd wake up and look right at me. Naturally I seem familiar."

The idea of him watching her as she slept should have made Bulma uncomfortable, but his matter-of-fact words reassured her. "I guess that would do it."

Goku came back to Bulma's bed and sat in the nearby chair. "Your friend is on her way. I didn't tell her much, just that you were injured but would be fine."

"Thank you. She's quite the mother hen, so I know she'll be worried." that was an understatement. Chichi would probably get multiple speeding tickets on the way down 48th Avenue.

Vegeta put his hand on Bulma's arm. "I know you've been through a very difficult time. I spoke to Dr. Springer, and he said you couldn't remember anything after leaving work Friday evening, but that might change as your brain heals itself. Have you been able to remember anything else?"

"I just have some images in my head. Some feelings."

"Like what?"

"I was walking, then I stopped short. A man smiling-a nasty, mean smile. I was afraid, and I remember running. Being chased." her eyes stared ahead, unfocused. She shivered and blinked, then looked at Vegeta. "Nothing really makes sense, because there's no context. I don't know when it was, where I was, what I was doing there. It's like looking at pictures in a photo album but not knowing the story behind them." She frowned and tried to hold the thought that was teasing just at the edge of her memory. "Photos."

"What?" Vegeta asked, leaning towards her.

"I looked at the cruel smile and thought...thought I'd seen a photo of the man smiling at me. The deal just popped into my head. It was...surreal."

"Good." He took her hands and spoke soothingly. "What did the man look like."

She tried to remember. After a full minute of silence, all she had was a vicious headache. "I don't know. I had to get away, so I ran. I just ran. That's all."

Vegeta's hands tightened around hers in an instinctive protest. To come so close, to have an eyewitness to the crime, and yet come away with nothing. 'Shit!'

Goku murmured reassuringly to her as she freed her hands from Vegeta.

"I'm so sorry." Bulma wiped her clammy forehead with the back of her arm. "I just can't remember anything clearly."

Vegeta paced towards the door, running his hand through his hair and then letting his fingers rest on the back of his neck. Silently he considered the possibilities, revising his approach to getting information.

"Do you remember anything after thinking you needed to run?" Goku asked.

"Nothing." Bulma's mouth was as flat as her voice. "I woke up here."

Silence filled the room.

She looked at Goku, then at Vegeta "Sorry to disappoint you."

"We're not blaming you," Vegeta said emphatically. "We blame the criminal who's responsible for this whole mess. Sure, it would be nice If you could give us a description, but we've got more now than we did yesterday."

"Like what?" Her voice was skeptical. She wondered if he was patronizing her the way the doctor had.

"We've got a new crime scene with new forensics evidence. We know we're dealing with a man, a man with what you described as a cruel smile. We know there is a photograph of the man or someone who looks like him-"

"No. A photograph of _him_," she interrupted. "It's the only thing I'm certain of, that flash of recognition."

"Okay." Vegeta said. "Where did you see this photograph?"

"I-I don't remember."

"Could it have been in a newspaper?"

"I don't subscribe to any papers. I get my news online, text version usually."

"Then what photos, particularly photos with men, have you seen recently?" Goku asked.

"I may have looked at photos-a lot of photos-during an appointment after work last night. But I can't say for sure. I don't even remember going to the meeting."

Vegeta tried to imagine why she would review pictures during a business meeting. He came up blank. "What was this meeting about?"

Her cheeks turned a dusky red. Kami, talk about adding insult to injury. "It was a dating service."

Goku's jaw dropped. "You're shitting me."

"You went where?" Vegeta's voice rose on the last word. He shook his head in disbelief.

Bulma counted to ten and hoped her blush would be mistaken for anger. "All right, gentlemen, I'm only going to say this once, so listen up. I had an appointment with a dating service last night. I'd just joined, so we were going to spend part of the evening reviewing the catalogue and looking at pictures of male clients to see if there were any matches for me."

Vegeta was too shocked to say anything. Goku coughed and jumped up from his seat to look out the window, studying the street below with apparent interest. Both men worked hard to look normal.

"It's not funny." Her voice was defensive.

"I'm not laughing," Goku said, but he didn't turn around.

Vegeta shook his head. "I can't believe someone like you would have trouble finding a date."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't have trouble finding a date. I just have trouble finding someone I want to date. Big difference."

"Amen to that," Vegeta muttered under his breath. He hadn't been out with a woman in months, since just after his last relationship. He'd quickly grown tired of the casual partner-swapping of North City's singles scene and had buried himself in his caseload with few regrets.

"Look, I don't think we should be focusing on the dating service." she said in a voice that was intended to close the subject. "I could have been picking up my dry cleaning."

Vegeta almost smile. Temper made her eyes sparkle and added color to her face. His witness was obviously beginning to feel better.

Goku, having gained control of his laughter, turned back from the window. "Hang on a sec. Where is this dating service located?"

"It's not far from 40th Circle-you can walk there from the Deep Plains Car Garage." Bulma gave them the address and cross streets.

The men exchanged a quick glance. Vegeta mentally ran through the various routes a pedestrian could take between the circle and the address Bulma had given. One of the shorter ways went directly through the schoolyard where the murder had occurred.

"Did you plan on walking?" Vegeta asked.

"Yes. I was going to leave my car at the car garage at 40th Circle, walk to the dating service, then walk back to the car garage and go back home. We expected the meeting to take several hours, but the taxis run regularly through that route."

"Do you normally walk around the city at night? Alone?" though Vegeta's tone was calm, his eyes narrowed at the thought of the solitary woman walking the dark streets of North City. As a cop, he knew exactly what happened to some of those women. Bulma had been lucky. His case files were full of women whose luck had run out.

Bulma's chin shut up at Vegeta's deliberately neutral tone. "Yes, I do. I'm not stupid, nor am I a child. I just refuse to live in fear. I stick to populated areas and well-lit streets. If I have to leave them for some reason, I carry pepper spray in my purse."

The detectives traded looks again. Vegeta's theory for why the pepper spray had been at the crime scene has just been confirmed. Then Vegeta thought of something. "Were you carrying a purse?"

"Of course," she said.

"Where is it? It wasn't with you at the club where you were found, and we didn't find it at the murder scene. Are you sure you were carrying it Friday night?"

"I must have been. I never go anywhere without it. Maybe I dropped it and someone stole it?"

Vegeta thought about it but dismissed the notion. If she might have stripped the wallet of cash and credit cards, then stuffed everything in a dumpster somewhere. But Vegeta didn't think so. He remembered being on the murder scene and the gut feeling he'd had that the killer liked to keep trophies.

"What's usually in your purse?" Goku asked before Vegeta could.

"The normal stuff-wallet, compact, checkbook, house and car keys."

"Did you have a driver's license or other ID in your wallet?" Vegeta asked.

"Of course."

Vegeta's eyes narrowed. "Did it have your current address on it?"

Bulma nodded. "I've been living there for around six years. Why?"

"We need to get your locks changed," Goku interrupted. "It's a good idea after you lose your keys."

"You're right." she said, nodding absently as she thought about it. Great, some punk off the streets could have her keys and address-another thing to worry about. Then she picked up on the undercurrents of what Vegeta and Goku weren't saying. "You guys think the killer has my stuff?"

"We don't know that," Vegeta tried to reassure her. Mentally he cursed her quickness. They would have to work fast to stay ahead of her, but he admired the fact that she was picking up his unspoken worries despite her concussion. He'd always found smart women sexy. 

'Steady, man. You're working, not trolling.' Vegeta reminded himself that Bulma was a witness in a homicide investigation. His job was to work with her to close the case, nothing more. That was the way it had to be, regardless of how attractive she was to him, with her wild aqua hair and intelligent ocean blue eyes. And he always thought he preferred blondes. "We don't want to assume anything here," Vegeta began. He was interrupted by the sound of a commanding voice in the hall.

"I'm here to see Bulma Briefs. Which room is hers?"

"Chichi." Bulma said to the men.

Goku walked to the door. "I'll explain to her what's going on." He left it to Vegeta to reassure Bulma.

Vegeta leaned towards her and waited until she looked at him. "I don't want to jump to conclusions. I'll have foot patrols on the murder scene search for your purse. We'll need a description of it, plus a list of your credit cards so we can track whether they're being used."

"Okay." She met his reassuring eyes but didn't feel any better. In fact, as she thought about this new threat, her headache came back with increased intensity.

He looked at her close and thought she seemed less vibrant then she had been a few minutes ago. "Is your head hurting?"

Bulma nodded once, carefully.

"Then let us worry about the purse. We'll talk later about the description and your credit cards."

She nodded again, looking away from the eyes that saw right through her to read her thoughts. He knew she was deeply disturbed by the idea of the killer having access to her home-knew, too, that her head had started its dull throbbing again. She looked out the window and tried not to think about Vegeta's ability to read her like a book. It had a disturbing effect on her.

Silence grew in the room.

Vegeta was tempted to break it, but Bulma's body language didn't invite conversation. He settled back in the chair and planned the next steps in the investigation.

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**A/N: **Well this is the end of chapter six. Yes, sad I know but what could I do. I know you don't have to say it. It's my fic and I could do whatever but just thought I end it there. Hope you all liked it. Remember this is dedicated to all of you. I like to thank all of you who reviewed. I know I usually ask for 5 but this time I got more. So I thank all of you for reviewing. Next chapter promise it will be long and Chichi will come out in it. Also, I would like to hear some ideas from all of you. So if you have any let me know. For the people that have suggested ideas. Don't think I haven't taken them into consideration. I'm just seeing exactly where to apply them. So don't get discouraged.

**P.S. You know how it is. R & R. 5 Reviews gets you a sooner update. **

**P.S.S. **I have this other fic in titled: **ASSASSINS**. So check it out.

_**LATERS!**_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **I really tried to get this chapter up soon as possible. Anyways thanks to everyone that has reviewed this story. This (hopefully) is an extra long chapter for all of you. It is dedicated to the people who take the time to read and review, also it is specially dedicated to **Jewelofbeauty**. You asked for a long chapter well here you have it, Enjoy.

**DIS: DO NOT OWN! **

**Chapter 7**

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North City

Saturday afternoon

The heels on Chichi King's sandals clicked loudly in the quiet hospital corridor. She turned the corner and walked as fast as her legs would allow. Her adrenaline was still racing from the phone call she'd received. She made her way to the nurses station and asked where Bulma Briefs' room was located. The nurse assigned her a visitors badge and directed her to the room. Chichi approached, then paused before opening the door. Bulma needed a calm and supportive presence, not fear and nerves. Chichi didn't know what had happened, but if Bulma had a head injury sever enough to require hospitalization, then she certainly didn't need an emotional friend. Chichi worried when Bulma had missed their lunch date. It wasn't like her at all. The phone call Chichi had received half an hour ago had been a nightmare come true, and it had jolted her to the core. She reached for the door handle again, only to have it pulled right out of her hand. She found herself staring at a man's chest as he stood in the doorway. She looked up. Kami, he was tall. It wasn't fair that some people towered over six feet, while Chichi had to stand up straight in order to top 5'4" on the doctor's office.

"You're going to get a crick in your neck." an amused male voice said.

Chichi narrowed her eye in annoyance. Did the man read minds, or did he just naturally go for the jugular? She was forced to step back as he gently crowded her into the hall and pulled the door shut behind him. Goku looked down at the black haired woman in front of him. He could tell that he'd annoyed her with his comment about her height. He smiled as he looked over the rest of her-irritated chocolate brown eyes set in a beautiful face. Her slim body had just enough curves to be interesting, but her real glory was the thick black hair brushing against her shoulders. The spaghetti string red dress she wore revealed milky white skin. He imagined she must not be the type of person that tans as much, then lost that train of thought when she crossed her arms over her bosom.

"Um, Ms. King? I'm Goku Son. We spoke on the phone earlier."

"Oh, yes. Are you Bulma's doctor?" Chichi latched onto the man, hoping for more information about her friends condition.

"Doctor? Ah, no." Goku was amused at the idea. "Look, Bulma is fine, Ms. King--"

"Chichi Please. Ms. King makes me think of my mother." she smiled, and a dimple appeared on her right check.

"Chichi." He rolled the name off his tongue, though he was unable to say it as she did. "I'm a detective with the NCPD Homicide Division."

"Homicide?" Chichi's face turned gray. She grabbed Goku's wrist. "You said Bulma was going to be fine."

"She is fine-in fact, I was just speaking with her. I'm sorry to have alarmed you, but another woman was murdered last night. We believe Bulma was a witness."

"Kami, you scared me half to death. You better give me the whole story, and don't drop anymore bombs. My heart can't take it." Chichi let go of Goku's wrist and put a hand to her chest as if to slow the wild pounding there.

He could see the pulse beating in her throat. Chichi obviously cared about her friend a great deal, so he gave her a brief, careful summary of last night's events to put her mind at ease. Aside from the event he let her know about Bulma's health condition. Carefully explaining to her that Bulma might suffer from traumatic amnesia and that she couldn't remember much of the night's event. He let her know that the doctor was hopeful that Bulma's brain would repair itself and eventually her memory might return. Chichi said nothing, just looked at Goku's body as if trying to see through it to her friend. Her lips trembled as she thought of what could have happened. Her first impulse was to rush into the room and gather Bulma in a tight hug, but she needed to be in control before she saw her friend.

"Hey." Goku gently touched Chichi's arm. "She's going to be fine, really. She was cracking jokes with me not half an hour ago."

Chichi smiled, though it was a bit wobbly. "That's Bulma for you. She's as solid as they come."

But Chichi knew that Bulma's tough exterior shielded a tender heart. The two had been friends since kindergarten, and there was no one alive who knew Bulma better (with the exception of Bulma's family and Juu). Certainly no one who would understand just how devastating something like this would be to Bulma's quiet, predictable life. Chichi bit her lip as she thought about what would need to be done to help her friend get through the next few days.

"Chichi? I don't think it's a good idea for you to go in there if you're going to fall apart. Bulma needs some calm right now." Goku's tone was bracing. He really hoped she wasn't going to start crying.

"What?" Chichi pinned Goku with a glare worthy of Miss Kendall, the never-married schoolteacher who had been the bane of the high school years in Satan City. He opened his mouth to defend himself but never got the chance.

"I am not going to fall apart, Detective Goku Son. Nor do I appreciate you telling me what my best friend does or does not need. I know her better than you, and I realize she needs me to be strong and supportive. Especially after having to deal with the police all day." She snorted and looked him up and down. Her tone left no doubt she was referring to Goku, and that she felt it would be real hardship to spend the day in his presence. Part of her understood she was snapping at him because he was right, but now she wasn't feeling charitable enough to admit that out loud. Goku raised his eyebrows, silently stepped aside, and motioned Chichi into the room.

"Chi! How many red lights did you run getting down here?" Bulma's attempt at humor would have been convincing to someone who didn't know her. Chichi saw right through the casual tone and forced smile. Emotion briefly tightened her throat as she quickly assessed her friend.

"I came as soon as I heard, sweetie." Ignoring the room's other occupants Chichi crossed to the bed and enfolded her friend in a gentle hug.

Bulma closed her eyes as she put her own arms around Chichi's delicate frame. Her friend's perfume embrace had always meant unconditional love, acceptance, and support. Bulma hadn't realized just how much she needed that until she'd heard Chichi's voice. Vegeta stood up to meet Chichi, pleased to see the tension relaxing from Bulma's face as she hugged her friend, then released her. Chichi stepped back and pushed Bulma's wild hair from her face, studying what she saw there. She seemed to be satisfied, because she set her huge purse down on the bed and began rummaging inside.

"Chi, this is Vegeta, er, Detective Ouji. He's working on my case, I guess you could say." Bulma gesturing toward Vegeta with a shrug, wondering how else to introduce him.

Chichi looked up briefly from her purse to perform thorough once-over of Vegeta. She took in the uncompromising muscling strength and rolled her eyes. "How long has the testosterone brigade been in here grilling you, sweetie? Did they at least let you take a break to get something to eat?"

A giggle escaped Bulma's lips before she could contain it. Chichi had picked right up on the leashed male energy in the room and wasn't afraid to put her opinion of it into words.

"They're cousins can you believe it," Bulma said.

Chichi's sniff said she had no trouble believing the two men were related. She waved a hand to dismiss them and removed a large plastic container from her cavernous bag. "I've brought broccoli-spinach-cheese pie with chunky tomato pasta sauce for supper. For dessert you can have this flan I made today. It might not be as sweet as it should be, but I'm sure it's better than anything the hospital cafeteria makes."

Bulma licked her lips as the scent of the pie filled the room.

A hopeless scavenger, Goku perked up as he sniffed the air appreciatively "Didn't you say earlier that you that you weren't hungry, Bulma? It would be a shame to let that delicious-smelling pie go to waste." He ignored the elbow Vegeta dug into his ribs and summoned his most charming smile for the women.

Bulma shot Goku a smug look, cutting a piece of the pie and savoring the taste. "Chi, even your mom doesn't make better pie." She settled back on the pillow to get comfortable with her dinner.

"After you finish that, we'll get you into a real gown, not one of these tacky numbers with rear ventilation." Chichi fingered Bulma's thin, hospital-issue nightgown, then studied her friend's face. "What did they do to your hair?"

The thought of what her curls looked liked when they hadn't been tamed into some kind of style made Bulma grimace. "I guess it got wet and I slept on it." she slanted a brief glance at Vegeta, embarrassed that she looked like a train wreck. '_Oh, well. I bet I look better than most of the people he comes across in his line of work.'_

Chichi watched while Bulma tried to arrange her hair with one hand. Then Chichi dug a brush and a clip out of her bottomless purse, turned around to face Vegeta and Goku and said, "Gentlemen, if you are through here?…."

Vegeta dragged his attention from Bulma's hair and looked at the brunet who had effortlessly taken control of the situation. The message came across loud and clear. "Yes, ma'am," he said wryly, then turned to Bulma. "Were going down to the station now, but here's my card. I've written my cell number and Goku's on the back. Call us if you need anything, no matter how unimportant, or if you just want to talk. I mean that." Vegeta's piercing black eyes stayed on Bulma's down-turned head until she looked up. After hesitating a moment, she nodded and set the card within reach on the nightstand. "Well talk tomorrow," Vegeta said. "No big deal, just routine follow-up. Evening, ladies." he nodded to Bulma and Chichi, then followed Goku out the door.

Bulma finished the pie under her friends watchful eye. Then she pushed the empty pie plate away and opened the container that held the flan. The familiar taste of caramel flan filled her mouth. There was nothing like a little comfort food to make the world better. "I'm fine, Chi. You don't need to hover like I'm going to fall apart."

"Sweetie, you're the strongest person I know. But it's been a shocking day, so please, let me fuss a little." Chichi began to tidy items on the bedside tray.

Bulma took another spoon full of flan in her mouth, savoring the sweet taste. "Yes, it has been a hell of a day. I'm sure it would be even worse if I could actually remember what happened."

Chichi picked up the brush and began to tame Bulma's curls. "You can't remember anything?"

Bulma frowned. "Nothing very helpful. Just some flashes and images. I remember being scared. Apparently I ran from the scene. Kami, there was a woman murdered in front of me and I ran away!"

"And what would have happened if you'd stayed? You'd have been next, that's what." Chichi said sharply. "You did the right thing. You escaped and were able to alert the police about the murder and-"

"And haven't been able to give them a single thing since," Bulma finished.

"Sweetie, you're being too hard on yourself. I know we all treat you like the Bionic Woman sometimes, but…" Chichi set the brush down. "Things happen for a reason. And you were somehow meant to get out of the horrible situation. Maybe your memory will come back and you'll be able to give the police some information that will help them catch the killer. But first you have to concentrate on getting better."

"I know. I just want to help so much. There's a young woman who's dead. And the man who killed her could know where I live."

"What?"

"My purse is missing. Vegeta thinks the killer picked it up. My driver's license and keys were in there." Bulma tried for a casual shrug.

Blowing out her breath audibly, Chichi began to arrange Bulma's hair in a loose French braid. "Then you'll come stay with me until this is over. No arguments." Her tone was firm, as if she were dealing with her younger brother.

"All right." Bulma's soft agreement sounded exhausted. Chichi completed the braid and stepped back to examine the results. Bulma's blue eyes had deep purple shadows under them, and her skin was paler than usual. Tomorrow or the next day her friend would bounce back, but right now she was too tired to fight. Hoping to distract Bulma, Chichi pulled up a chair and tapped Vegeta's card on the night stand.

"So tell me all about your gorgeous policeman." She waggled her brows suggestively. "I suppose he spent the whole time by your bedside?"

"Please." Bulma almost laughed. "He's just doing his job." That's what she kept telling herself every time her thoughts came back to Vegeta and the look in his eyes. _'That look is called frustration. He wants something from me and right now I can't give it to him.' _Bulma glanced at his business card on her nightstand. She promised herself she'd get a good night's sleep so that she could do more to help the detective tomorrow. And she really hoped she didn't have any more nightmares about strange men with cruel smiles.

"Do you have your car?" Vegeta asked Goku as they walked out of the hospital.

"No. I left it at the station and caught a ride down here. I figured we could start going over the case on the way back."

"Roach Coach sounds good for dinner?" Vegeta's question was absentminded as he walked out of the elevator and across the hospital lobby.

"Bring it on, baby."

Vegeta smirked. They'd both eaten worse-and been thankful for it-than the questionable offering of the mobile catering van that usually parked near the police station. Vegeta unlocked the police-issued sedan and folded his legs under the wheel. His intellect was warring with his frustration as he tried to decide what to do next. He wasn't surprised that there had been another murder. What he couldn't believe was that they had an eyewitness who didn't remember enough to describe the scene of the crime, let alone the murder suspect. He rubbed his neck tiredly. He hadn't managed more than a couple of hours of sleep last night, and those had been sitting in a chair next to Bulma's bed. Even worse, the last day had involved one disappointment after another. He was having a hard time coming up with a way to turn things around.

"It's a tough break." Goku said.

"Stop reading my mind." Vegeta's voice held on heat. He and Goku often depended on their uncanny ability to know what the other was thinking.

"Doesn't take a psychic, buddy. You've given these two cold cases a lot more than your others. You thought we had a big break and now it's gone-it shows, that's all."

"Yeah, I want to solve the case. No one deserves to be gutted and left to die on the street, no matter what she does for a living. But am I losing my perspective here, imagining the connection?"

Goku's response was immediate. "No. My instincts say the links are there. We just need to find a way to prove it and catch this guy."

"It would be hard to get a warrant citing 'instinct' for probable cause. We need something to break this open." Vegeta tapped an irritated beat on the steering wheel. "A week ago if we thought we'd have an eyewitness to a connected murder, we'd have been doing fucking back flips. Now we're just doing laps."

"Let's see what comes back from the forensics team before we decide whether we're wasting time or not." Goku spoke carefully, sensing that Vegeta's legendary self-control was wearing thin.

"We should have a sketch out to the public-maybe one of the kids hanging around the crime scene during the investigation might have seen something." Vegeta said forcefully. "Or some old lady with insomnia who looked out her window at the right time. One corroborating witness, and we're onto this bastard!"

Goku knew that Bulma was at the heart of his partner's frustration. "She's trying her best." Goku said.

"I know that. You think I blame her?"

"No. And I don't blame her either."

Vegeta sighed slowly. "Guess I need some sleep." He sighed again and tried to remember the last time he'd seen his bed. "Hell, I know you're frustrated too."

"Yeah, though probably not about the same thing you are."

"Huh?"

"I think we both know the real reason you're so tense has big blue eyes and is lying in the hospital bed down the street." Goku said.

"What is that suppose to mean?"

"Exactly what you think it means. Even half-dazed in a hospital gown, that's a good-looking woman. And it's damn sure she's smarter than that houseplant you bought to last year's Christmas party."

"Bulma is a witness on a case," Vegeta said. "Nothing more, and certainly nothing less."

"Oh, come off it. If you'd touched her hands or arms one more time I was going to start getting hot and bothered."

Vegeta was irritated . True, Goku had an unnerving ability to understand what made most people tick, and he'd been practicing on his family for years. But Vegeta had worked very hard to suppress the attraction he felt for Bulma. To have his nose rubbed in it pissed him off.

"She was scared and in pain, that's all." he said neutrally. "You know as well as I do that physical contract can he a powerful tool in the interview process, especially when the victim is feeling fragile."

Goku snorted. "Fragile, my ass. Bulma could probably go one on one with my boot camp drill sergeant and win."

"Look, I needed information and she needed some warmth and human contact. That's all there was to it." That was all he would let it be. Bulma was a witness on his case, and she was feeling vulnerable after having her turned upside down. The thing he needed was for her to pick up on the attraction he was feeling. He winced at the picture that formed in his mind-the lead investigator, sucked in by the false intimacy of an overnight vigil, hitting on a witness as she lay in her hospital bed. Kami, if he was reduced to trolling the ER for fresh prospects, it really had been to long since he'd been with a woman. Vegeta ignored the voice in his head that said Bulma would appeal to him even if he'd just come from a weeklong stay in another woman's bed.

Goku looked at his quiet partner. "Okay, so what's your plan?" he asked, settling back in the seat. Knowing Vegeta, he'd already figured a way to attack the case from a new angle.

"Assuming the captain lets us take a hot case." Vegeta began.

"He will. He's desperate for detectives after that double homicide in Adams Morgan."

"Anyway," Vegeta said, "If we get the case we'll go full court on Mendes' life. If nothing comes of that, we'll interview Bulma again. Maybe by then she'll remember something useful." Vegeta didn't add that backing off Bulma would also give him a welcome break from her presence, allowing him to be more objective about her.

"Hmmm," was all Goku said.

"What?"

"I'm not sure how well Bulma and the words 'back off' go together. Sure, she's quiet now, but she doesn't strike me as the type to quietly wait around until you're ready to play with her again. Hell, she'll probably be calling you for daily updates once she's feeling better." Goku chuckled.

"She wont even get out of the hospital for a couple of days. She'll have plenty to keep her occupied, and so will we after the forensics team is done. Meantime well divide up and interview Mendes' fellow workers and boyfriends, ex-husbands, handymen, butchers, bakers, the whole lot, and see if anything pops."

Goku asked without real hope, "You want Mendes' private or professional life?"

"Professional. It's your turn to soothe angry, grieving parents."

Goku sighed but didn't argue. "In between all that we should get a list of men Bulma might have seen coming or going from the Camelot office building last night."

Vegeta shrugged. "If there's time, or if everything else comes up empty, I'll contact the dating service Bulma visited and see if we can get more details about her appointment. Maybe she saw someone who reminded her of the killer. Hell, it's remotely possible that she saw the real one."

"Makes me wonder," Goku said.

"What?"

"If 'serial murder' is listed as a profession or a hobby in a dating catalogue."

"I'm betting on professional," Vegeta said. "And we're dealing with a guy who loves his job."

North City

Saturday evening

"A brutal murder has sent shock waves through a quiet North City neighborhood today. Good evening, I'm Lunch Lambert. On this hot July night, the grounds of Eastwood Middle School should be empty, but instead they are teeming with N.C. police officers. Homicide investigators have set up a command post and cordoned off part of the schoolyard where a young Hispanic teacher was killed late Friday night."

The man watched the Barbie doll reading the teleprompter on the weekend edition of the 11 o'clock news. He'd been going over the online news all days, looking for details on the lead story. But the Web stories, while titillating, lacked the punch of the melodramatic presentation and video footage. He turned the volume up as the anchor switched to the reporter in the field.

"Thanks, Lunch. Second-year teacher Renata Mendes was stabbed to death late last night or early this morning, and police are still searching desperately for clues here at the scene."

He snorted. The police were fucking idiots. He was too smart and planned too carefully-he never left any clues behind.

"Mendes, pictured here in her graduation ceremony from Glenview Teacher's College, had apparently stayed late to plan a weekend retreat for a student government group she led. That retreat, sadly, has been canceled today."

The man tuned out the reporter's babble and studied the photo of the pretty young teacher with dark hair and eyes. She was perfect, really. The whole experience would have been perfect too, but for the stupid bitch who'd literally stumbled over them. He bunched his hand into a fist. Yes, he deliberately selected an area where there was a risk of discovery-that just added to rush. But he was supposed to have controlled the situation and taken care of anyone who'd come along. How could he have known he'd be discovered by a woman who ran like an Olympic sprinter? Anger boiled to the surface again as he remembered how the woman had slipped through his fingers. He'd never lost control of a moment like that before. He hadn't been able to think about anything else in the last twenty-four hours.

"We spoke to some of the victim's students, as well as her family, and as you can imagine they are absolutely devastated."

Good-favorite part. The lamentation and tearful remembrances of the victim's family and friends. He waited for the familiar curl of arousal though his body, but it didn't come. He concentrated harder on the television report.

"We spoke with the victim's mother this afternoon in a Channel 9 exclusive. Here's what she had to say about her daughter's violent murder."

The camera switched to a matronly woman in an old housedress. Her double chin trembled, and black tears ran down her heavily made-up face.

"My poor Renata. She was a good girl, she straighten her life around. She grew up on the Westside of North City. Maybe she had some trouble with boys and drugs in high school, but she get herself out of neighborhood and go to college on a scholarship. The first person in the whole family to graduate from high school, but she never forget about where she came from. We were so proud of her." The woman stopped speaking and began to sob.

No, the teacher certainly hadn't forgotten about where she'd come from. That's how he'd found her in the first place. She'd been leaving the house of the woman now blubbering on the TV. He'd followed Mendes as she'd walked alone through an area where crack deals and five minute 'dates' were arranged on the corner of every street. Then he'd watched her home-to-school routine for days while he planned his next move. In the end, she'd died just like any other whore from the streets where she grew up. He waited again for the arousal that usually came when he remembered one of the knife games, but he felt nothing. All he could think about was the woman who had ruined everything. He opened his robe and began to masturbate, but his body refused to respond. With an angry sound he threw the remote control onto the coffee table and paced around his apartment.

The television droned on, more tear-jerking stories about how wonderful Renata Mendes was in life, how tragic her death. Even the shocked faces of her sweet young students failed to arouse him. He turned to do another circuit of his large living room. It wasn't fair. This was the only pleasure he had in his controlled life, and it had been ruined. What good was slicing these women if he couldn't get off later thinking about it? If he couldn't get off remembering and fantasizing about every aching, hoarded detail of the acts? He stopped next to an elegant cherry wood chest along the wall of the dining room. His hands trembled faintly as he opened the lid to examine the items inside. He took a pair of disposable gloves from the hospital supply box nestled in the chest, then pulled the top item out. Turning it over in his hands, he studied the smooth grain of the black leader clutch purse. It was top quality, really fine stuff-unlike the teacher's cheap straw bag. This was the kind of purse a lady would carry. Of course, a lady wouldn't have blasted him in the face with pepper spray like he was a common thief. She'd pay for that, just like she'd pay for ruining his game. He caressed the smooth leather with a gloved hand. He reached inside, plucked out on a matching black wallet, and set that purse aside. Opening the wallet, he studied the driver's license. His lips moved as he read what has already been committed to memory.

"Bulma Briefs. Five feet five inches, one hundred and twenty pounds. Aqua colored haired, blue eyes. No corrective lenses, organ donor." He closed his eyes and tried to picture her as she'd been that night. But his blood lust had been running high when she'd come across him. He hadn't noticed any particular details about her appearance.

"You're right, Lunch, the police really have very little to go on."

The man looked toward the television set again. Obviously the reporter was wrapping up his remote shot and was mouthing the rehearsed banter with the anchor back at the station.

"I did ask Captain Broly about witnesses or investigation leads, but he told me he was not free for comment. Inside sources hint at an eyewitness or forensic evidence, but officially the police have no comment about this murder, the latest in a series of murders within the Hispanic community. Back to the studio."

So, there seemed to be an eyewitness? Then why weren't there any sketches or descriptions being released to the media? Maybe the bitch had been hurt in her fall down the stairs. Or maybe she just wasn't talking to the police. Either way, he'd have to take care of her. Not too soon, because everything had to be perfect this time. He needed to plan carefully, a process that was often arousing in itself. He felt the first hint of sexual tension in his body and eagerly looked down again at the driver's license. As he studied the Royal Gardens address, he knew he would make things right. But this time he would do it with style.

00000

**A/N: **Well there you have it (hopefully) an extra long chapter. Hope you all like it. Let me know what you think about the story, the characters, and everything that is happening. Also I know who the killer is going to be but if you have a better idea or any idea let me know. Reminder this chapter is dedicated to all of you who take the time to read and review. Special dedication to **Jewelofbeauty**, this one was for you.

**P.S. **You know the drill **5 REVIEWS GETS YOU A SOONER UPDATE. **

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LATERS

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	8. Chapter 8

DIS: DO NOT OWN

**CHAPTER 8**

North City

Sunday morning

Chichi parked her 2004 Malibu car on Bulma's town home driveway. She got out of her car and made sure that she locked all the door before closing them. As she straightened, she felt like she was being watched. She looked around casually, certain she would find one of the golf cart vehicles that were use by security. Deciding it was safe she ran up the steps and unlocked the front door. After making a quick circuit of the first floor of the house, and instinctive act for a female who lived alone in the city, she watered the lush house plant that was in the patio door. There were no fish, birds, cats, or dog to take care of. Bulma often insisted she didn't have the time for the antics of either pets or roommates. She had enough and made enough money that she wasn't forced to share her living space to make ends meat.

While Chichi moved from room to room, she paid close attention to the locks on the windows and doors. Bulma's elegant furniture and impressive electronics collection seemed intact. Satisfied that at least one of her friends fears could be put to rest., Chichi went up stairs to pack clothes and toiletries. Blessing Bulma's innate neatness, as well as the detailed instruction she had given, Chichi packed everything under ten minutes. Making a mental note to stop the mail service and have Bulma ask a neighbor to pick up the flyers that accumulated on the doorknob, Chichi locked the front door and turned to go down the steps to her car.

Pausing to shift the suitcase to her other hand. Chichi again had the feeling that she was being watched. The sensation was unpleasant, and she went down the steps in a rush. Given her new awareness of the dangers in the city, Chichi had worked herself into a major case of the willies by the time she got to her car. Glancing uneasily around the tree-shaded street, she opened the trunk and deposited the suitcase in record time. She didn't breathe easily until she was behind the wheel with the doors locked and the engine running. Chichi stopped long to twist her hair into a careless knot, allowing air from the vents to move across her damp neck and shoulders. She chided herself for her jumpiness-she was just overreacting to Bulma's recent attack. There was no one on the street, no other sounds but the occasional car driving by.

"Get a grip." She spoke aloud in the air-conditioned safety of the car. It didn't make her feel better.

Determined to push the uneasiness away, Chichi made plans to stop by the seafood market tomorrow morning before picking Bulma up from the hospital. Some shrimp etouffée would do them both world of good.

000

North City

Sunday morning

The man sat behind the wheel of his two-door BMW, ignoring the trickles of sweat that slid down his face and neck. He'd been sitting in the car for over an hour with the tinted windows only partially opened. He would come back later, at night and walk around Bulma's house. But for now it was enough to sit and watch and think of his sweet prey almost within his reach.

'Bulma Briefs' The intimacy of knowing his victims name during the planning stages of the game was a sexual thrill. He kept saying her name in his mind and whispering it in the car.

He'd been parked in several spots along Bulma's street all morning, waiting to catch a glimpse of her in one of the windows, or maybe even outside. There had been no movement at all. Judging by the junk papers and ad mailers that had piled up on her front door, she probably hadn't been home in several days. The news hadn't mentioned her at all. Maybe she had a boyfriend. Or maybe she'd been injured enough to be in the hospital, but he didn't think so. It would have been all over the TV. Reporters loved a victim with a pretty face.

A 2004 Malibu passed his car, then slowed down in front Bulma's house. Under his intense gaze, the driver parked in Bulma's driveway and got out. He forced himself not to move as the petite woman looked up and down the street. He was sure she couldn't see him, over forty feet away and parked in the shadow of a huge tree. As she trotted up the steps and paused to unlock the front door, he noted her small size and vibrant black hair. This wasn't Bulma Briefs. Maybe it was a roommate. Over the next ten minutes, all the curtains were closed as the woman moved around both floors of the town home. He wondered what the hell was she doing. Maybe she didn't live there after all. Less than fifteen minutes later the woman came out of the house again, this time carrying a small suitcase. Excitement surged through him as he considered the possibilities. He was betting the little brunette had packed a suitcase for Bulma, which meant she was staying somewhere else. But where?

When the woman froze at the top of the steps, he deliberately looked away, sensing that she was somehow aware of his intense interest. He used his peripheral vision to watch her descend the steps and put the suitcase on the trunk of the Malibu. Then she got behind the wheel and started the engine. The sound carried through his open window on the muggy breeze. He waited while she put the car in gear and headed down the street away from him. It was easy to keep her in sight on the straight, meticulously planned blocks of the Royal Gardens estates. He let another car go by before starting his own engine and pulling out to follow the brunette's Malibu. Within minutes she turned into the drive at an apartment building on 15th Avenue. She ran in with the suitcase, apparently left it with the concierge, then came back out immediately to move her car out of the drive.

He parked illegally and waited to see what she would do next. Under his watchful eye, the brunette drove around the corner of the block and parked in the indoor garage next to the apartment building. When she locked the Malibu and went back to the apartment building, he strained to see through the glass doors of the entry. He could just make her out as she spoke to someone. Ignoring the No Parking sign, he turned off his engine and sat in his car across the street from the apartment building, hoping she would have one of the units that faced him. A few minutes later, she showed up on a fifth floor balcony and began watering some plants.

The corner of the man's mouth twisted up into a smile.

000

North City

Sunday afternoon

Captain Broly hadn't been impressed with Vegeta's theory that the Mendes murder was tied with several cold cases, but he'd been happy to hand over what was becoming a political hot button - "Murder in the Hispanic community and police don't care!" - to two of his best investigators, at least on an interim basis. After a few hours of sleep and a shower, Vegeta and Goku had worked straight through the weekend. Goku had already interviewed the Mendes family and found absolutely nothing that made him suspicious. Vegeta had been through with Mendes's fellow teachers, nearly all of whom were female. There weren't any recently fired janitors, boyfriends, ex-lovers, other teachers, bus drivers or anything else out of the ordinary. Renata Mendes was just what seemed to be-a woman who walked down the wrong street one night and got herself killed by a stranger. With a growing certainty that there wasn't going to be anything in Mendes's life that would point to her killer, Vegeta and Goku reviewed the Mendes file and forensics information, and traded off pestering the crime lab when the information didn't come quickly enough. Then Goku went to work on Bulma's file.

"This thing's heading for the 'unsolved' files," Vegeta said, throwing a file on his desk. "Not even a hint of anyone with a personal motive. If Mendes were any cleaner, I'd nominate her for sainthood."

"Anyone come up with something on the door-to-door of the murder neighborhood?"

"Does zilch count?" Vegeta asked.

"What about the hotline?"

"The usual number of whackos and earnest citizens who think that because their neighbor lets his dog shit on their lawn, the dude's also a murder." Vegeta said. Goku snickered.

Vegeta pointed to a thin file labeled Bulma Briefs. "You get anywhere on that angle?"

"I talked to her secretary and closets employees. She didn't interview any new male clients, and no new man was hired in her office recently. Did you get through to Camelot Dating Service?" Goku asked

"Owner is listed as Juu Gero of North City. No personal number and no response at the business number. I'll try her Monday morning." Vegeta stretched and tried not to yawn. "How's the victim profile coming up? I'd like to have more than a hunch the next time we go to the captain."

"Well, the three victims had similar physical descriptions. All of them were regulars in some of the ugliest parts of our fine city-though for different reasons in the case of Renata Mendes. She visited her family in Southeast, but lived on the other side of town, near where she was killed. The crime scene is a high-traffic area with all kinds of fingerprints, hair, trash, and shit like that. It will take several days to get forensic analysis detailed enough to allow us to compare the three scenes."

"CSU isn't going to be able to pull anything useable from that scene and you know it," Vegeta said.

"Yeah, we need another angle. How about Bulma's personal life?"

Vegeta flipped through Bulma's file, telling himself he was only doing his job by checking on the veracity of their only witness. "No in town family. Her parents live in West City, only child and some of her private life seems to be missing. Mostly all from high school up to two years ago when she became one a the main heads of Capsule Corp here in the city. Up to there everything in her life is missing."

"Can we get some one to fill in the blacks for us?"

"Yeah. I'll go and tell Courtney if she could make a thorough check on Bulma's personal life."

"You are gonna tell Courtney? Isn't she still mad at you?" asked Goku

"No, not really. She started talking to me again around a week ago. Anyways Bulma is well-liked and respective member of Capsule Corp. her colleagues describe her as smart, funny, and a workaholic. They also say she's a person who's honest to fault" Vegeta read from his partners notes.

"So this honest, smart, and dedicated woman is sure she knows the killer but just can't remember why or how," Goku said, "Any obsessive boyfriends stalking her?"

"Can't tell. The security at Camelot's office building remembers seeing Bulma alone just before midnight. He offered to call her a cab, but she said she was going to walk to 40th circle. Idiot." Vegeta wasn't sure if he was referring to Bulma or the guard who had let a woman go alone into a rainy night.

"I bet they both learned a lesson." Goku said.

Vegeta nodded and yawned so hard his jaw popped. He stood up and stretched the kinks out of his neck and back, then turned off his desk light. "I'm beat. I think we'll have more to go on once we speak to Juu Gero and look through her catalogue."

"Catalogue won't do much good if we can't place any of the guys at the scene of the crime."

"You have a better idea?"

Goku shook his head. "Any activity on Bulma's ATM or credit card?"

"Nothing has turned up on the cards or the purse."

"I don't have a good feeling about that."

"Neither do I." Vegeta said. He couldn't describe the unease he felt whenever he thought about Bulma missing purse. If the killer had taken the bag from the scene, he had her address and keys. "I'm afraid he'll fixate on the one that got away."

"Kami, I hate the whackos." Goku said. "Speaking of which, I'm starting on a rough psych profile of our killer. Assuming the three cases are connected, there's enough in the forensics reports and victim description to put something together. It's not going to be a solid profile, but at least we can take a stab at it. So to speak." Goku said with a tired smile.

"Thanks for volunteering, partner. Nobody does the mind-fuck quite like you." Vegeta grabbed dark sunglasses and patted his pocket in search of keys.

"Flatterer. Heading home?" Goku asked, burying his nose in the files on his desk.

"I'll probably grab something for dinner, or maybe go for a run to clear my head. You want anything?"

"No, go ahead. I'm starting on the profile while the information is fresh. I'll get something to eat later."

"I'll see you at Camelot tomorrow, then. Eight o'clock?" Vegeta asked.

"Not everyone likes to start their day at the crack of dawn. Ms. Gero might be a nine-to-five type." Goku wasn't a morning person. He sympathized with those forced to drag their half-awake bodies into the office and be productive on someone else's timetable.

"Then we'll wait for her, maybe take a look around the place. Nice try, though." Vegeta departed without a backwards glance.

He stopped by the technicians lab on the second floor. A beautiful woman was sitting in her chair typing new entries in the computer. By the hour in the day her golden brown hair was now in a messy low ponytail. She always was very professional in her attire and work. But after working since early in the morning even she would tire of professionalism. She kept on typing her work without noticing his presence. Vegeta was tired and wished to head home as soon as possible. He lightly knocked on the door frame and her attention was taken away from the computer. Her beautiful periwinkle eyes were meet with dark black eyes.

"What can I help you with on this fine busy afternoon, Vegeta?" Courtney asked

"Right to the point as always."

"I know you Vegeta. We both would be wasting each other time. It would be unprofessional. Especially when you know I have a lot to work on."

"Alright, you caught me. I need you to search out history or on our witness. Her name is Bulma Briefs. Most of her life has been erased. She works in Capsule Corp and has a very high position for a person who has no history."

Courtney wrote down the information that was given to her. "I'll try to work on it today and will try to have it for you no later than tomorrow."

"Alright than I'll let you get back to work." Vegeta said. He turned on his heal and left the station.

On his way home he stopped by his favorite Geek restaurant for takeout gyros, returning to his apartment, and wolfed down the dripping bits of meat and pita in record time. Afterward he still felt restless, unable to get the case out of his mind. He fought it for a few hours, then threw down the TV remote control and went to his car, resigned to the idea that he was going to work that night. It was beginning to look like a woman with amnesia was their best lead on a murder. That was a good reason to keep in contact with her, see how she was doing, if she remembered anything at all. If she was awake, they could talk. Shoving his hands in his pockets and whistling cheerfully, Vegeta chose not to examine too closely the reasons for his sudden good mood.

000

North City

Sunday evening

The doctors Vegeta had hoped to talk to weren't available at nine on a Sunday night, but Bulma Briefs was. He flashed his badge at the guard posted in the hallway and paused in the partially opened door to Bulma's hospital room. Knowing he was there after visiting hours, he did a brief check for roving nurses and began to close the door behind him. The security guard smiled and gave a thumbs-up sign. Vegeta turned to the bed, half expecting to find Chichi in the chair, but Bulma was alone. She was asleep. Her hair was pulled back, and she wore a deep purple robe that was bright against the white sheets. Someone had brought in a reading light and set it on the nightstand, where it threw soft light across her relaxed face. A paper novel lay nearby. The restlessness he'd felt earlier in the evening increased until tension once again filled his body. He hadn't seen Bulma since yesterday afternoon, and he'd hoped his memory had exaggerated her appeal to him, it hadn't.

As he stared at Bulma in her jewel-toned robe, illuminated from the side by soft light, he was forced to admit that he wanted her. Big time. _'Down, boy Didn't we already have a discussion about this?'_ He blew a breath up toward his dark bangs, trying to lift them from his suddenly damp forehead. _'It's just because she looks like an angel,' _he told himself_, 'lying under the light with her aqua hair and pale, smooth skin. All I have to do is turn the light off.'_ He reached across her for the lamp switch. As the shadow of his arm fell over her face, she jolted awake. Eyes wide, she jerked away from Vegeta with a frightened sound.

"Hey, its just me. You're all right." Vegeta's own heart was unsteady as he used his hand to soothe her. When the light fell across Bulam's face again, he looked down and saw that her eyes weren't completely blue. In full light they were close to turquoise and drew him in like a spiral puzzle. He stood there, unable to say anything else, even when she recognized him and relaxed.

"Sorry, I've been a little jumpy." she said. She wondered how long he'd been watching her sleep. Silence stretched painfully as he just stood there, staring at her. "Is anything wrong? Any news on the case? Helloooo?" she waved her hand in front of his face, causing him to pull his head back.

He blinked and moved the novel on Bulma's bed. Then he sat on the edge, aiming for a casual note to cover his fascination. "Ah, no. we've been working all weekend, but unfortunately don't have anything new. How about you? Have you been able to remember anything more?"

"Not really. The feelings I had earlier are stronger, but I don't have any real memories of the night of the murder. Sorry."

"What do you mean the feelings are stronger?"

"I told you, I've been really jumpy. Like just now." her gesture took in the bed and Vegeta's presence.

"I think anyone would understand you being a little nervous-" he began.

"No, it's more than that. This morning I was standing at the window when a nurse came up behind me and touched my shoulder. I just about jumped out of my slippers." she gave a humorless laugh and started to speak again, then caught herself.

"What else?"

"It's so stupid, but…I've been having bad dreams. At first I thought this was a good sign, that maybe I'd remember something in my dreams. But the only thing I remember is what I feel when I wake up. I don't like it." it was very difficult for her talking about her vulnerability, but something in Vegeta's eyes said she could trust him.

"Ignoring this feelings won't make them go away." Vegeta said, choosing his words carefully. "When you're an intense situation, when your life is at risk, the image burn themselves into your brain. You can either deal with them and hope to put the fear behind you, or you can suppress them."

"Guess which method my brain had chosen?"

"Suppression might work for a while, but eventually-on their own terms-the image will come to the surface. And then they own you." he said.

She shook her head. Even with Vegeta's comforting presence, she didn't want to remember the sickening flashes of her dreams.

"Bulma." his voice and eyes were intense. "You can deal with the dreams now, or let them haunt you. It's your choice. And if you remember…" he shrugged. "If you remember, you can do something about stopping the bastard. Isn't that better than being eaten alive by nightmares?"

Bulma was silent for a moment. When she finally spoke, it was in a half whisper. "I think the worst thing is feeling powerless. Feeling like prey. I was terrified-it was a mortal fear, knowing if I didn't get away I would die." she looked up at him. "I bet you've never been scared like that."

"You'd lose." he said, then stood up. "Before working with NCPD, I was in the army. Special forces. I saw action in some drug-infested sewers around the world. Believe me, even though CNN makes it all look like a freaking training video-a complete rout spliced nicely to fit into their sound bytes-the bullets were goddamn real to those of us on ground."

"Oh." somehow the knowledge that he'd once been afraid, that he really knew what she was going through, reassured her. "Were you injured?"

"Not seriously. Goku was," Vegeta said, repressed emotion throbbing in his voice. "He was a Navy SEAL, but his career ended in a training accident. Two men died, and they nearly lost Goku as well. It took him almost a year to recover."

"It doesn't show."

"It's there. Before the accident, Goku was a typical cocky SEAL. You know, the 'I'm invincible, and good looking, too' mentality. And he was all of those things." Vegeta gave a half smile. "But everyone's luck runs out eventually. Goku changed after the accident. He dealt with all the survivor's guilt and grew up. He figured out what was important in his life."

"It must have been horrible."

"I'm not telling you this so that you feel sorry for him, but to make you realize that others have walked the path you're on right now. And they came out stronger on the other side."

Bulma read through Vegeta's words to his unspoken care for Goku. "You're very close to him, aren't you?"

"We were raised together-he's like my bother. He's also the reason I'm here, doing a job I love."

"It must be nice to have someone who's their in your time of need." Though she felt a tug of envy, Bulma's voice was even. At this moment all kinds of emotions were emerging. She knew the reason why her parents weren't by her side at the moment.

Vegeta hesitated. He knew that her childhood friend Chichi was the closest thing Bulma had to family at this moment. It worried him to no end. He wanted to assure her that her family would be by her side any moment. But due to the circumstances that half of her private life was missing, it was impossible to find her parents in West City. Only if Courtney would hurry with the information needed, things would be much easier. "When someone has an experience like yours, they should have someone to talk to. A family member, or someone who understands what they're feeling." at that moment he wanted to ask about her family but by the look at her face it wouldn't be appropriate. "You might want to consider seeing a therapist."

"A shrink? You've got to be kidding. How would he or she know what I was feeling?" Something in Bulma rebelled at the idea of seeking help, especially when she couldn't even say with certainty what was wrong with her. Basically, she'd witnessed a crime and bumped her head Friday night. Worse things happened to people every day without sending them to the psychiatrist's couch.

"But you need someone to talk to, and you friends certainly aren't qualified-has any of them ever been through an experience like yours? Why not see a doctor?" Vegeta persisted.

"I doubt I'd be able to find a shrink who tripped over a modern day Jack the Ripper and then bashed his head on a stairway." she held up a hand to stop his next argument. "Besides, I have you."

"What?"

"You and Goku, of course. You two, better than anyone, would know how I'm feeling. And you have a vested interest in me," she said, smiling.

Vegeta wondered if she was flirting with him. "I do?"

She gave him a strange look. "The case?"

"Oh, yeah. The case." he paused. "Of course you can call either one of us night or day to talk about the case, or to just-talk. You know how to reach us, right?"

"I have your card." she continued to study him, curious. As she watched him, she sensed that he was deeply aware of her as a woman. Kami knew she was intensely aware of him. It was something she hadn't experienced in a long time. Was he here late on a Sunday for some reason other than just doing his job?

The phone on the nightstand rang, starling the both. While she talked, he looked at her face in profile., noting the clean line of her small nose, the delicate arch of her cheekbone, and the stubborn thrust of her chin. He wondered what it was about the combination of her features that made her so beautiful to him. Vegeta didn't realized he was staring until Bulma hung up the phone and titled her head inquiringly at him.

"Who called?" he asked, hoping he didn't look as stupid as he felt.

"Chichi. She's going shopping tonight and wondered what I wanted. I'll be staying with her for a couple of days, until I can get a locksmith out to my place."

"Good. I don't like the idea of you being alone right now. Does Chichi have a secure system?"

"She lives in a secured building. You don't think-"

"I don't think anything, except that it would be a good idea for you to stay quiet for a few days and avoid your previous routines. Don't make your life predictable. Stay with Chichi for as long as you can-it's just common sense. You can't always have a guard at your door."

"A guard?" Bulma's voice rose.

He nodded toward the hall and then realize she hadn't noticed the hospital security guard outside her door. '_Shit.'_

"Since when?" she demanded. "And why?"

"There's a guard on this floor checking all IDs. It's probably just hospital policy."

"That's lame. Try again."

He rubbed his neck. "We're just being cautious, maybe overly so. We won't know for sure that you're in any danger." _'Just a burning feeling in my gut whenever I think about it.'_

Bulma looked unconvinced. Vegeta was angry with himself for scaring her. If he'd been thinking straight, rather than drooling over her, he might have handled the situation with a bit more finesse.

"Why don't you get some more sleep?" he said, backing toward the door before he stuck his foot in his mouth again. "Sorry I woke you. I didn't mean to."

"Sure. Run away. I'll sleep great tonight, thanks to you."

"Do you want me to stay awhile?" He felt guilty enough to make the offer, though he hoped sincerely she wouldn't take him up on it.

"No. One guard is enough."

"Okay. I'll be in touch." He slid out the door and shut it behind him.

'_Jackass,' _Vegeta muttered to himself as she strode down the corridor. _'You really screwed that up.' _He'd jumped out of airplanes during his years in the army. He'd faced down armed felons high on crystal meth when he was working the streets. And after twenty minutes with Bulma Briefs he was tied up in knots like a horny teenager. Distance, that's what he needed. A lot of distance.

00000

A/N: Well their you have it, CHAPTER 8. I tried so hard to make this a long chapter and hopefully it was. If anything is wrong or misspelled please tell me. I would like to apologize for not updating soon as I promised. Since finals are around the corner I finally had a chance to finish this chapter. I promise that the coming weeks I will update a lot sooner. I thank all of you who take the time to read and review. This chapter is dedicated to all of you. Oh, and one more thing **_HAPPY THANKSGIVING_** from me to all of you.

P.S. You now the drill **5 reviews **will get me to continue writing the upcoming chapter.

P.S.S. Suggestions are always welcome. Flamers aren't. **REVIEWING is a must. **

P.S.S.S. This chapter I dedicate especially to COURTNEY. S and ZICKE. Thank a lot gurls.

LATERS


	9. Chapter 9

DIS: DO NOT OWN

CHAPTER 9

00000

Vegeta dragged a grumpy Goku through the revolving doors of the office building that housed Camelot Dating Services, Inc. they flashed their badges at the security guard and headed to the elevator.

"I told you there wouldn't be a problem." Vegeta said. "She's been here since seven. Some people appreciate the benefits of getting an early start on the day."

"Screw you. Some of us were at work until after eleven last night."

"Yeah, well, I didn't get to sleep much before one," Vegeta said, "so I don't want to hear any bitching."

"Why were you up that late? And don't tell me you had a date because I wont believe it."

"No date. I just couldn't turn my brain off and sleep. I went for a drive instead." Vegeta mumbled.

"How was Bulma?"

Vegeta blew out an exasperated breath. Kami only knew how Goke figured these things out, but he always did.

Goku smiled. "Like I said, I know you. I figure you were at the hospital within half an hour of leaving the station last night."

"Smart-ass. For your information, I didn't get there until after nine," Vegeta said.

"Sneaking in after visiting hours? How shocking. This gets better and better." Goku heard Vegeta grinding his teeth and took pity on him. "Did she remember anything useful?"

"No. I think the memories are there, but she's having a tough time dealing with them. She talked about having nightmares, but can't remember anything when she wakes up. Maybe she doesn't want to." Vegeta shrugged and pressed the button for the eighth floor.

"The first few days after something like this are rough." Goku narrowed his eyes as old memories of his own came to the surface. "She might need counseling or something."

"Kami, don't say that to her. I suggested it and she almost took my head off. Says she'll be just fine without any shrink prying into her dreams." Vegeta stepped off the elevator and turned toward Camelot's offices.

"I told you, she's a tough one." Goku said. "She'll work it out."

"How can you possible know that?"

"Come on, you know I can read people. Besides, any one can see Bulma's got a backbone of steel inside that incredible body of hers."

"Even steel will bend or snap under the right kind of pressure." Vegeta said. Then he stopped dead as the rest of Goku's words sank in. he grabbed his partner's arm. "You're not interested in her."

"Nah, I have a feeling she's already taken. Doesn't mean I can't admire a smart and pretty lady, though." Goku's voice was cheerful.

"She's not taken. I told you, the preliminary investigation didn't turn up any boyfriend."

"How anyone as smart as you can be so thick about women is a complete mystery to me." Goku pushed past Vegeta and opened the door to Camelot's offices. He smiled in a friendly way at the young man behind the receptionist counter. "Detectives Son and Ouji here to see Juu Gero."

The kid's eyes widened as he carefully studied Goku's badge. "Juu is in her private office with her babies right now. I don't usually disturb her when she's there. You know--breast-feeding." The kid made a face.

"Right." Goku leaned over the desk in a friendly way. "Maybe you could call her extension or something, see if the coast is clear."

"Sure thing."

Everyone seemed to open right up to his partner, Vegeta thought. Somehow, during interviews and in the field, Goku always got to play the good cop to Vegeta's bad cop. When he occasionally protested this arrangement, Goku always pointed out that Vegeta did a lousy good cop when dealing with suspects. Something about his intensity put people off.

Within a few minutes the two detectives were being shown down a hall. A tall woman with shoulder length hair was standing in an open doorway, looking toward them curiosity. "Hello, I'm Juu. I have no idea why you're here, but please come in."

Introducing themselves, Vegeta and Goku walked past her. Though the sign on the door indicated hat this was a "private office," the room looked more like a set from Sesame Street than a place of business. Fanciful past drawings of animals and fairy-tale characters decorated the yellow walls, and there toys scattered on the floor. An oversize crib was pushed into the corner underneath a mobile of the solar system. A rocking chair sat nearby, next to a bookcase filled with oversized picture books. Two infants lay in the middle of the floor, comfortably stretched out on a thick green blanket. As Vegeta and Goku entered, the babies tracked the sounds and turned their heads to the newcomers.

"Twins!" Goku said, taking the lead in putting Juu at ease. "You're a brave woman."

Vegeta made no comment, merely squatted down next to the babies and picked up the stuffed animal to get their attention. He knew exactly what to do. Over the years he'd been an honorable uncle to half a dozen of Goku's sisters' kids.

"It's not like I had a choice, Detective." Juu smiled, charmed at how comfortable the men seemed to be with her babies. She supposed they must be married with kids of their own, but neither wore a wedding band. When she looked up, she discovered that Detective Son was discreetly looking at her left hand, too.

'Well he wont find anything there,' Juu thought to herself before directing herself to them. "I'd offer you a seat, but there aren't any in here, unless one of you wants the rocking chair. I'm sorry, but my nanny doesn't get here until noon, so we'll have to stay with the boys."

"No problem." Goku casually sprawled on the floor, drawing the attention of the nearest baby.

Vegeta settled himself comfortable as well, keeping a grip on the stuffed animal that was being earnestly gummed by the child at his side. He waited for Juu to decide what to do next.

She hesitated, then sat on the blanket as well. "These are my sons, Cole and Ezra. They'll be three months old next week."

Vegeta took in her slender figure and ringless hand. "Business owner and mother of two babies-that's a lot to handle. I hope their father helps out around the house."

"Their father is dead. What can I do for you gentlemen?" Juu's tone was flat.

Vegeta let Goku jump into the hitch in the conversation while mentally filing away the information for Juu's file.

"I'm afraid we're here to investigate and incident involving at least one of your clients." Goku said.

"Which client? What happened?"

"Bulma Briefs was assaulted after she left here Friday night." Goku studied her as he said the words, noting the way she sucked in her breath as her cheeks turned pale.

"Bulma! Is she all right?"

"She's just fine, though she has a nasty bump on her head. I think she'll be leaving the hospital this morning." Vegeta said.

"Kami. What's going on in this city? First there's a murder not ten minutes away, and now I find out that one of my friends was attacked after leaving here." Goku shook her head and reached out to stroke her hand over first one baby, then the other. "Is it this neighborhood? We just moved the business four months ago, but maybe I need to find another office building."

"Crimes occur everywhere in the city." Vegeta said. "This building is as secure as most."

"What happened to Bulma? Was she robbed, or….?" Juu forced herself to voice her greatest fear. "Was it a sexual assault?"

"We don't believe it was, and the doctor found no sign-"

"What did Bulma say about it?" Juu interrupted Goku. "I know cops are reluctant to believe the woman, but surely she told you what happened.?"

"Bulma doesn't have any clear memories of the night she was attacked." Goku said. "The doctor is hesitant to use the word amnesia just yet, but says it's not uncommon use for a victim of head trauma to forget some or all of the events leading to the time of injury."

"That's where we need your help." Vegeta said. "There's a possibility that that the man who attacked her may have some kind of connection to your dating service."

Guilt flooded Juu "My Kami. I'm the one who talked her into this."

"How long have you known her?" Goku asked.

"About six years. Bulma entered college the same year as I did. After graduating we just kept close by email or phone calls. Then her company hired Maura-my sister-to host several corporate events called Meet and Greet Mixers."

"Meet and what?" Goku asked.

"You know, a sort of cocktail party after work where a firm's employees socialize with members of our dating service. Mostly the women members."

"Come again?" Vegeta asked.

"I'm sorry. I'm not being very clear, am I?" She ran a hand through her shoulder length blond hair. "I just-I just feel so bad that I nagged Bulma into this dating mess."

"Start from the beginning and take your time." Goku said.

"Okay." She blew out a breath. "Most dating services have more female clients than male ones. My sister was always looking for creative ways around that problem. It turns out that a lot of high-tech companies have many more male employees than female employees than female ones. Due to the technical nature of their jobs, many of these male employees are, um, introverted."

Goku snorted, thinking of the geeks on the Police Department's IT staff. Vegeta glared at him.

Juu pressed on. "So Maura developed this plan to combine the two groups-she convinced some of the areas firms that Camelot could host cocktail parties and invite only our female clients. The high-tech firms would invite their male programmers and technicians, and everyone could get acquainted in a causal environment. It was a brilliant plan, and the parties were lots of fun."

"But when does Bulma come into this?" Vegeta asked.

"She's the Vice President of Capsule Corp and she lead a whole team of male programmers and technicians experts. She sort of came along for moral support-you know, to act as an icebreaker. She was also the person who decided on signing her company into the meet and greet parties in the first place. She told her board of directors that the company had to offer unique and interesting benefits if they were going to hang on to their technical employees. Besides the fact that she would still make it happen since she is the Vice President."

After the initial shock of finding out the biggest peace of information on Bulma. Goku spoke up. "Do you still host these parties?" Goku asked. The baby nearest to him began to fuss, so he moved a toy within reach.

"Yes. Some new small firms have now joined and we have to slow down on scheduling the parties. It has also been a bit difficult since there are more companies involved. But we try our best. A lot of things have changed since my sister's time." Goku smiled sadly. "It's a whole new world out there."

"Did she sell you the business?" Vegeta asked.

"No, I inherited everything after she died two months ago. Leukemia."

"I'm sorry. To lose a husband and sister…this must be a very difficult time for you." Vegeta sympathy was genuine.

"I've never been married, but it was still hard. As for my sister, she was sick and in pain for over a year. She was ready when the time came, even though we weren't." Juu's eyes filmed with tears, which she blinked back. "Anyways, Camelot is Maura's legacy, and I work very hard to keep things as she would have wanted them."

"We don't want to add to your burden." Vegeta said. "But we do need you to help us find out if Camelot is somehow involved with the attack on Bulma." The baby next to him began to fuss as well-Ezra he thought. He picked up a rattle to distract him.

"It's almost feeding time." Juu murmured.

"We won't be much longer, just a couple more questions," Vegeta assured her. "If you could tell us what happened during Bulma's appointment last Friday, that would be a big help."

"Bulma's appointment started late, about seven. It was her first visit as a client, so we had a lot of paperwork to go through. She had to fill out several lengthy questioners on our computer system and provide detailed background information on herself."

"Can we see what she filled out?" Goku asked.

"Member records are confidential, unless Bulma is willing to release them. I can show you some blank questionnaires if you think that would help."

"Okay, so what did you do after the question-and-answer session?" Vegeta asked.

"My mother works with me. We both spent some time helping Bulma write a brief biography about herself. This will appear with her photo in our online catalogue. And yes," she added, before they could ask, "access to the catalogue is confidential and limited to members as well."

"And then?" Vegeta prompted.

"Then we spent several hours looking through our catalogue of male clients. We explained the system to Bulma, then showed her how to search and sort candidates and there photo based on her preference."

Vegeta came o attention. "Do you have the results of any of her searches? We can get a court order if necessary."

Juu looked unhappy at the thought of the police going through Camelot's files. "Bulma, being Bulma, decided no to use any sort criteria. She just started with the beginning of the alphabet and worked through to the last male candidate. She's very thorough. It took her until after eleven to finish the whole catalogue."

Vegeta thought quickly. If they could get a copy of everything they could cross match against the national criminal database and flag any Camelot members who had criminal records. "What format do you use for your files?"

"We use a database that was developed exclusively for Camelot. I can give you the name of the software consultant."

Juu picked up Ezra as the baby's fussing to increase in volume. Cole also began to get restless, so Goku jostled him gently, trying to distract him with strokes and pats.

Vegeta spoke over the sounds of unhappy babies. "What is the exact procedure you use to screen a new member."

"Just as I explained to you. Bulma's first visit was pretty typical. Once the new client leaves, we take their detailed background information and give it to a private investigator we have on retainer. They run a basic check for criminal records, credit history, that kind of thing."

Vegeta nodded. No help there.

"What does all this have to do with Bulma being attacked?"

Vegeta hesitated, looked at his partner, then answered, "Bulma remembers very little from last Friday night, but she did get a brief look at her attacker. She had very strong impression that she'd seen the man before in a photograph-she's certain about that. Camelot is the only place she can imagine having looked at photos recently, so we're checking it out."

Juu met his eyes for a long moment. "You think one of our male clients attacked Bulma?"

"It's possible. The attack occurred only a couple of minutes from here," Vegeta pointed out.

"You're wrong. I'm sorry Bulma was attacked-you have no idea how sorry-but our screening measures and security policy are excellent. Anyone with this type of behavior in their past would be discovered by our investigator. We'd cancel their membership and refund their money. My sister set the system up, and it's solid." Juu said.

The baby in her arms stopped fussing and began to wail.

"I'm sure it is," Vegeta said. "I hope you understand that we need to investigate every possibility."

"Of course. I just don't want you to spend your time scrutinizing Camelot when you could be exploring more productive leads."

With the crying baby in her arms, Juu made her way over to the phone. She spoke to someone and asked or two bottles of formula to be brought from the kitchen. As if on cue, the other baby began to cry as well, either from hunger or in sympathy.

"I need to, er, feed one of these guys while my mother gives the other a bottle," Juu said. "Then we switch. We'll probably be a while."

Both men shot to their feet. Goku bent down, handed the second crying baby to Juu, and turned to leave.

"We need to talk with you again," Vegeta said quickly, "We'll leave our cards with the receptionist."

Almost before Juu could blink, the two men were out the door and moving down the hall at a rate of speed. She smiled grimly to herself. Nothing like mentioning breast-feeding to send a grown man running for the hills. As she rocked the babies to calm them, she wondered if Bulma blamed her for the attack, if that was why she hadn't called to tell her what had happened. With her arms full of screaming babies and her heart full of guilt, Juu waited for her mother to bring in the reinforcement.

00000

A/N: Well their you have it people, CHAPTER 9. I tried so hard to make this a long chapter, sorry if it isn't . If anything is wrong or misspelled please tell me. I'm so, so sorry that I didn't update sooner, please forgive me. I promise that the coming weeks I will update a lot sooner. I thank all of you who take the time to read and review. This chapter is dedicated to all of you.

P.S. You now the drill **5 reviews **will get me to continue writing the upcoming chapter.

P.S.S. Suggestions are always welcome. Flamers aren't. **REVIEWING is a must.**

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

MikariStar 

bhfirewife

Majesta

marcie

Jess

zicke

LATERS


	10. Chapter 10

**DIS: DO NOT OWN**

CHAPTER 10

* * *

North City 

Wednesday evening

Vegeta grunted with the effort of blocking the basketball. He took an elbow shot to the gut from Goku but refused to give way. Lunging forward, Vegeta swiped the ball from Goku and jumped up to make a basket. Using the back of his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead, Vegeta passed the ball back to Goku. "Fourteen to ten," Vegeta said, grinning.

"I'm just getting warmed up."

Goku's bare torso, like Vegeta's, glistened with sweat. A sly wolf whistle from the left distracted Vegeta long enough for Goku to get by him and score.

"Looking good, there, guys. Looking real good." a slim woman in her late twenties gave them both a thumbs-up sign and smiled on her way into the precinct's back entrance.

"Careful, Pandora, or I'll tell your husband you're window-shopping." Vegeta yelled as he tried to get by Goku on the right, then lunged to the left.

"Hey, when the merchandise is really fine, there ain't no crime in admiring it on the shelf." Pandora waved and headed inside to her job as a computer operator.

The two men continued to play, enjoying the rough game of one-on-one. The last few days had been an infuriating mix of bureaucratic roadblocks and dead ends. Both men were head0banging mad about their lack of progress on the case. Finally they had come outside to blow off some steam at the basketball hoop someone had set up behind the station.

"Time out," He and Vegeta went over to their water bottled and towels. Even in the late evening the heat and humidity were intense.

After pouring cold water over his head, Vegeta took a long drink. "Any word on the court order to transfer Camelot's database to our files?"

Goku shook his head. "Attorney's office says we still don't have enough evidence to get a judge to issue the order. We'll have to talk Juu into just letting us have the records, or keep digging until we get something for the court. Maybe if we got a sworn statement from Bulma saying he was positive the killer was a client…" he trailed off and shrugged.

"We've sent the last three days working on the dating service angle," Vegeta said, "and we've got squat to show for it. The forensics has nothing from the scene-no fingerprints, hair, semen or skin samples that can be tied to the killer. Or to any of the other cases. The scene was just contaminated." he sat down his water and picked up the ball again, waiting for Goku to finish gulping his drink.

Goku wiped his mouth and headed for the blacktop beneath the hoop. "No one is this good, this careful. We have to be missing something."

"Well, we did get the medical examiner to agree that it's possible all three victims were killed with similar knives and, more importantly, knife strokes," Vegata said, passing Goku the ball. "None of the murdered women had incision marks or evidence of slicing. They all died from clean, deep wounds made by a six-inch blade that's at least an inch wide at the base."

Goku grunted and made a jump shot over Vegeta's head. "I haven't had time to go over the preliminary forensics report. I've been to busy chasing court orders and trying to tie things up from the Camelot perspective."

"Me too. Maybe that's the problem. We've been running around trying to flesh out the dating service connection, going on the assumption that Bulma really did see the killer in the catalogue. We've been trusting her instincts."

"That's nothing new. You and I go on instinct all the time." Goku said, spinning around as Vegeta got by him.

"Yeah, but always look to old-fashioned investigative work to back up our hunches. So far we haven't come up with anything. We've been working around the clock for close to five days," Vegeta said, slamming the ball though the hoop.

"What are you saying? You think Bulma is imagining things?"

"It's possible she took a helluva knock to the head." Vegeta concentration faltered for a second, and his partner stole the ball. "Shit. I don't know. It seems like everything we follow turns to nothing. Mendes has nothing in her life to point the killer. Nobody saw anything the night she was murdered but Bulma."

"Slow progress is nothing new for murder investigations. Is Captain Broly chewing on you?" Goku asked dunking the ball.

"Yeah. He's got this wild ass idea to use Bulma as bait to draw the killer out of hiding."

"She's all we have." Goku said neutrally.

"Bullshit." Vegeta shot back. "We could go back and dig up everything that's been written in the files on the dead women over the years. And we need to go through unsolved stabbing murders for every precinct in North City metro area, maybe as far out as Silver Town. I have a feeling that this guy has been active for a while."

"No argument." Goku caught the ball Vegeta fired at him after scoring and began a new charge towards the hoop. "The captain told me to dig into the Camelot angle."

"And Bulma?"

"Yeah."

"He's really hot on the bait idea, isn't he?"

"Yeah." Goku made a basket while Vegeta stood there.

"Shit" Vegeta grabbed the rebound and slammed it through hard enough to make the backboard vibrate.

"Well some one sure is upset." a female voice came from behind them.

Both agents turned to see a young blond woman walking towards them. Goku smiled while Vegeta just looked at her. The blond woman stopped just a few steps away from them.

"Hi Courtney." Goku greeted.

"Hi Goku. Hi to you too Vegeta." she greeted back. "I guess I missed a helluva game."

"You didn't miss much." Vegeta assured. "Did you get what I asked for?"

Courtney handed him a manila folder. "Everything you wanted to know about Miss Briefs is in there. But I even found out other things so I decided to put it in as well."

"Thanks for your help Courtney." Goku said.

"Anytime. If there is anything else I could help you with just let me know." she told them then turned on her heal and went back in to the precinct.

Goku and Vegeta decided to end their game there. Both agents grabbed there things and walked back inside the precinct. It was time for them to find out what Bulma's past was so secretly hidden.

* * *

North City 

Friday morning

Bulma was relieved when Chichi finally went back to work on Friday morning. She felt guilty that her friend had already missed so much work, guiltier still for the fact that she had worried and fussed over Bulma since she'd left the hospital. But now Chi was back to her job at Ricotta (an Italian Restaurant), leaving Bulma to entertain herself in her friend's cozy two-bedroom apartment. After locking the two dead bolts and chain behind Chi, Bulma sat at Chichi's antique desk and opened her laptop computer a orker had dropped off. She barely paid attention to the status report the workers had sent. Things were going well without her, and she was confident her accounts would be fine for a few more days. When she heard her own thoughts, she paused. _'Who would have believed it?'_

She was normally the type of person who tool her computer and cell phone on vacation, half-convinced things would fall apart while she was away from the office. Funny how almost dying changed a person's perspective. She'd barely given work a second thought in the last week. Giving herself a mental shake, Bulma dealt with some e-mails needing replies and shut down her laptop. She wanted to keep Chichi's phone line free in case someone called. Specifically, in case Vegeta called with an update on the investigation. Since it had been days since they'd last spoken, Bulma had to believe he would attempt to contact her soon. The phone didn't ring, so she cooked a quick breakfast. While she ate it, she told herself Vegeta was busy following an investigation led. That would explain why he hadn't called. Later, as she surveyed the refrigerator for lunch prospects, she told herself she would give Vegeta one more hour. When the phone finally rang, Bulma dropped the sandwich she'd been picking at and rushed to grab the receiver.

"Hi, Bulma. It's Juu. When I couldn't find you at home, I called Chichi's number. I didn't want to disturb you before." Juu paused, "Anyways, I understand if you don't want to talk to me, since I'm the one who got you into this mess."

"Don't be ridiculous," Bulma said. "No one got me into this. It just happened."

"And it wouldn't have if I hadn't nagged you into joining Camelot. The detectives seem sure the dating service is connected. I'm so sorry," she said miserably. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"You spoke to Vegeta and Goku? When?"

"The first time was Monday morning, but I've pretty much had daily contact since then. They're trying to get a court order to access Camelot's files. I'd like to just give them the information, but Mother contacted our lawyer and he says I could be liable if I turn over confidential details on clients. He's reviewing our membership contracts right now, to see what the liability is if we turn the database over to the police." Juu hesitated. "Are you all right?"

"Sure-I just knocked myself out when I fell down a set of steps. It really wasn't as dramatic as it sounds. Everything's fine."

"Is it really? The detective are going to an awful lot of trouble just to catch an assault suspect."

Bulma hesitated. Juu seemed to be under the impression that Vegeta and Goku were treating the attack as an isolated incident, instead of one that was connected to the murder of Renata Mendes. "What exactly did Vegeta tell you about last Friday night?" Bulma asked cautiously.

"Just that you were assaulted while walking home from Camelot. He said you couldn't remember much, except for the impression you had seen the guy who attacked you in a photo. Possibly a photo from Camelot's catalogue. Although they don't seem to be pursuing that angle anymore."

"What do you mean?" Bulma asked.

"It's just an impression. At first both detectives were involved in questioning me, and they really pushed me to turn in Camelot's catalogue over to their technical department. Recently, I've only been talking to Detective Son. Frankly, he seems more interested in you, me, and Camelot as a business than he is in the catalogue. That's my take, anyway."

"Did they mention anything about the woman who was murdered at the middle school near Camelot?" Bulma asked, already knowing the answer.

"No. What's going on?"

Bulma was reluctant to fill her in. Vegeta and Goku had clearly withheld the information from Juu. On the other hand, no one had told her not to talk about that night. Besides, if the police were going to play games, they could at least call her and tell her the rules. Since they hadn't, it didn't matter, did it? With that, Bulma told the entire story to Juu.

"My Kami. You witnessed the murder?" Juu was in shock. "And you think you might have seen the killer in Camelot's catalogues? I cant believe it!"

"Obviously, neither can the cops, since they've abandoned their efforts to get into your files and check out my story."

"If there is even a chance that murder is involved, I'll turn over the entire database with no question asked-forget my mother and the lawyer. Kami, all the police had to do was explain."

"That would be too easy," Bulma said bitterly.

She told herself it was stupid to be hurt. She shouldn't take it personally that Vegeta had been holding back information-and his opinion-about Bulm's version of the night of the murder. But she was hurt, and angry that she'd learn more about the status of the investigation from a chance phone call than from the detectives who were supposed to be her advocates. She felt her temper rising and deliberately clamped down. Flying off the handle wouldn't help. Okay, so the police didn't believe her story. So they had been keeping her in the dark right along with Juu. And because the detectives didn't believe her, they'd blown off the dating service catalogue, which was the one thing Bulma felt certain about in all the events of the last week.

"You're sure about seeing the man in a photo?" Juu asked.

"Do you have time to meet with me this afternoon?" Bulma interrupted.

"I'll clear my schedule and be over in half an hour."

"No. I'll meet you at your office. I think we've let me fall behind on my membership obligations."

"What are you talking about?"

"I suddenly feel a great need to look through your catalogue again I'm sure I must have overlooked suitable matches the last time around. When would you have time to go though the photos with me again?"

"How soon can you get here?"

"Give me twenty minutes." Bulma hung up and got ready to leave for Camelot. _'And to hell with the dark-eyed detective named Vegeta Ouji.'_

**

* * *

A/N: Well their you have it people, ****CHAPTER 10**. Hope it was to your enjoyment and that it was long enough for your liking If anything is wrong or misspelled please tell me. I'm so, so sorry that I didn't update sooner, please forgive me. The thing is that a lot of things have happened in my life and well I haven't had time. I will try my best to update soon. For the people who send me emails asking on the books that inspired me. These are some of the book that inspired me to write this story. **TO TRUST A STRANGER, CRUSH, A BODY TO DIE FOR, IF LOOKS COULD KILL **and many more. 

I thank all of you who take the time to read and review. This chapter is dedicated to all of you.

**P.S**. You now the drill **5 reviews **will get me to continue writing the upcoming chapter.

**P.S.S. **Suggestions are always welcome. Flamers aren't. **REVIEWING is a must.**

**SPECIAL THANKS TO: **

**Bex-chan**

**MoonPryncess**

**Eyes-of-Crimson**

**DBZ-fan-JESS**

**Kirusuchinu**

**Majesta **

**MikariStar**

**Showen-san**

**PANDORA001**

**zicke**

**SilverWing145**

**Black Rose Black Heart**

**TandM**

**Oozaru Angel **

**TIFFANI**

**enigma2682004**

**DarkCure357**

_LATERS _


	11. Chapter 11

**DIS: DO NOT OWN**

CHAPTER 11

North City

Friday morning

Bulma stalked into the building that held Camelot's offices. She was still simmering over the fact that the police didn't believe her about having seen the killer's photo. Vegeta probably thought she'd just been hysterical. Maybe he thought she was wrapped up in some kind of dating neurosis and had subconsciously tied witnessing the murder with her visit to Camelot. After all, hadn't he almost lost it when she'd told him she'd gone to a dating service in the first place? She stepped into the elevator and punched the button like it was a certain detective's face. Normally she wasn't one to simmer. When she got mad, she exploded, worked through things with the object of her frustration, and moved on with few hard feelings. But given Vegeta's annoying absence, that wasn't possible.

'_Coward. He knows I'm furious.'_

The fact that he could hardly know whether she was cheerful or killing mad didn't matter. It was much she too satisfying to think of him hiding from her temper. With a toss of her aqua curls, she strode through the doors to the dating service. Juu was waiting there. She hugged Bulma tightly, which surprised her. Juu was a good friend, but not normally a hugger. Bulma returned the embrace, sensing that Juu needed to be reassured about something.

"I'm so glad you're all right," Juu said, leading her to the private office. She shut the door behind them. "I've been sitting here worrying about you, thinking what I would do if it turns out this guy is a Camelot client. It will destroy everything Maura worked so hard to build."

"Don't worry yet. I cant be certain I saw the guy in the catalogue."

"But how can we be sure?"

Bulma took a deep breath. In some ways, she really didn't want to do this, but there wasn't any choice. "Since I have such a strong image in my head of a photograph of the killer, and since this is the only logical place I could have seen photos recently, I want to go through the catalogue pictures until something jogs my memory."

"You think you'd recognize the photo-or maybe have some kind of emotional reaction-even if you cant remember anything else about that night?"

"Exactly, if only you could see the photo in my mind. I don't really have an idea about his features, but his smile-" Bulma stopped and shivered.

"Tell me about it. Maybe I'll recognize him and save us some time."

"It was a very unique smile, kind of tight and twisted up at the end. Hell, it was twisted period. As if he were getting off, only there was real cruelty in the smile as well." Bulma looked at Juu, needing to be believed. "I'm not doing a very good job at describing it, but I'm sure I'd recognize him if I ever saw that smile again."

"Okay, so we look through the catalogue for guys who have twisted smiles." Juu mentally reviewed the best way to approach this task. "Some of the clients aren't smiling in the pictures. Do you want to eliminate them?"

"No, I think we should through every male client, in whatever way I did the night of the murder. I think that's very important. Maybe something will trigger a memory."

"Sounds good."

Bulma looked at Juu, seeking any sign that she was being humored or patronized. There was nothing but determination in Juu's sky blue eyes.

"That night." Juu said thoughtfully. "you opted to view the catalogue alphabetically. You went through ever photo and bio in the system. It took hours, but it should be easy to duplicate. Let me transfer my calls to voice mail and set the computer up, then you can pull a chair over here and start."

Bulma dragged a chair over to the desk. "Have the police already been through the pictures?"

Juu shook her head. "I told you, my lawyer advised me against releasing the information until he determine our liability. However, since you were a paying customer, I have no issue." She winked at Bulma and gave the command to sort the database entries in alphabetical order.

Very quickly a photo popped up on the screen. Nice enough man, a little older than his bio stated, and smiling like a choirboy.

"Next," Bulma said.

Another photo appeared. No smile.

"Next."

Bulma settled in and concentrated on bringing up memories of having been here before, of seeing the parade of hopeful male faces. Something. Anything. Whenever she spent longer than a few moments on a photo, Juu wrote down the name for further research. She gave up asking Bulma why she lingered over any photo. Her friend simply didn't know. They had gotten to 'F' when voices from the hall distracted the women.

"I think she is in her office, even though she's not answering." A pause, then a soft knock on the door. "Juu?"

"Come in."

The door opened a crack and Camelot's young receptionist popped his head in the opening. "Detective Son and Ouji here to see you again."

Bulma grimaced and muttered, "Busted."

Juu sighed. "Let them in."

The men came through the door, one after the other. Vegeta stopped abruptly on the seeing Bulma, and his partner smacked into him from behind.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Vegeta asked.

Bulma's temper red-lined in a heartbeat, though she kept her expression calm. "Detective Ouji, how nice to see you. I'm so pleased you remembered me, because I was beginning to think you'd forgotten who I was. Certainly I haven't heard from you or Detective Son in days, but I guess even common courtesy must be pushed aside during important police investigations." Bulma's tone was doing nothing to hide the fire burning in her eyes.

'_Well, shit,' _Vegeta thought. _'Who pissed in her shoes?'_

And when had he become Detective Ouji, uttered in that nasty, syrupy voice? He exchanged a look with Goku.

Juu stepped into the yawning silence to offer the men seats and some coffee. Bulma continued to wok one-handed on the computer. After giving a new command to the database program, she swiveled he chair, looked directly at Vegeta, and waited to make her next move.

Goku tried to smooth over the tense silence. "You're looking great, Bulma. How's the head doing?"

"It's just fine. You'd be amazed at what a few quiet days can do to clear up your thinking and put things in perspective, especially when your office leaves you alone and all you have to do is think about your personal life."

"Have you remembered anything?" Vegeta asked.

"Nothing you would find useful, I'm sure." she turned back to the computer and began searching the next range of entries.

"What the hell is that suppose to mean?" Vegeta asked. It was better than asking what he really wanted to know, which was why she was mad at him. The composed, angry woman sitting before him had little resemblance to the one he's last seen in the hospital, with wild curls and shadows in her vulnerable eyes.

"I think she's pissed about something," Goku said.

"Now why would I be mad?" Bulma asked, looking over her shoulder at Goku. "Haven't you and your partner kept me up to date on what's happening with my investigation and when I cam move back into my home? Haven't I had twice-daily calls letting me know what y'all are working on, and how things are going and if I could be any help?" Bulma picked up Juu's letter opener and began to tap it on the blotter pad.

Vegeta's eyes narrowed.

Goku started talking fast. If Vegeta lost his temper things would go to hell real fast. "That would be my fault," Goku said. "I've been working on the part of the investigation involving you and Juu, while Vegeta has been buried in archived files for every precinct in North City, Metro area. We've both been so busy that come days we didn't remember to eat." He smiled his most winning smile.

Despite her annoyance Bulma had to admit that what Goku said made sense, if you didn't examine it too closely.

"Plus," Goku added quickly. "your doctor told us to give you a couple of days to rest. Couldn't go against orders, now, could we?" Goku stretched the truth without hesitation. He had spoken to Bulma's doctor as part of his background check, and the man had said the best chance for Bulma to recover her memory would be through rest and recuperation.

Bulma fiddled a bit more with the letter opener. From the corner of her eye she could see that Vegeta looked very tired, with deep circles under his dark eyes. His short, dark hair was carelessly combed, as if he had run a hand through it repeatedly. Never one to hold a grudge, she decided to give the detectives a chance to redeem themselves by bringing her fully up to date on the status of the investigation.

"How have things been going on the Mendes case, then?" she asked.

Vegeta's expression became guarded. He resisted the urge to glance at Juu and see her response to the question. They had planned to stop by Camelot today and explain t her in detail why they believe Bulma's attack was related to a series of murders in the area.

"Don't worry," Bulma said. "Juu knows the whole story about the night of the murder." She smiled defiantly at Vegeta. "You didn't tell me to keep things quiet, did you?" Besides, Chichi already knew. I needed Juu's help, so I told her."

Vegeta sat back in his chair and told himself that losing his temper would be stupid. Obviously Bulma had been quite a bit of thinking in the last few days. While he was pleased she was feeling well enough to be out of the hospital visiting friends, he was uncomfortable with the idea of her revealing information about an active case without consulting him in advance.

"You should have talked to me," Vegeta said.

"How? You didn't return my call, Twice."

"It's fine if Ms. Gero knows," Goku said before his partner could put words to the anger narrowing his eyes. "We'd prefer if neither of you discussed it with anyone else, though."

Vegeta rubbed his neck and told himself to cool off. They should have known that Bulma would talk with her friends. If they hadn't wanted her to, they should have told her so. He couldn't get mad at her for something that was their own fault.

"Sure, it's no problem," Vegeta said. "Saves us some explaining." He looked over the desk at Juu. "Now you understand why we want to go through you files."

"I certainly do. But since I hadn't heard anything more about the court order, I'd assumed you had, um, abandoned the idea that our files would be useful." she looked at Bulma uncomfortably, seeking support as she became the focus of Vegeta's intense stare.

"Why would you think that? We've just been working other angles of the case," Vegeta said.

"What she means," Bulma said. "is it seemed like the police didn't believe me about the potential connection between the killer and Camelot's catalogue. I can understand how she came to that conclusion."

"It's not that we don't believe you," Vegeta said. "And we haven't dismissed any possibilities. We're detectives, Bulma. A lot of what we do would seem pointless to you, but it's all part of building an investigation."

"Puh-lease," Bulma said, rolling her eyes. "Look, I understand that an eyewitness suffering from amnesia isn't exactly a slam dunk for a court order, much less a conviction. That's why I'm working on finding something more concrete than a feeling I've seen this guy's picture before."

"What are you up to?" Vegeta asked.

"I'm not 'up to' anything. I'm merely pursuing something I believe is critical to regaining my memory."

Vegeta shot out of his chair and came around the desk. One glance at the computer screen was all he needed. "You're looking though the catalogue."

"Give the detective a cigar," she said.

Goku started to say something, then shut up at a look from Vegeta.

"Do you really believe you're going to find the guy's picture here?" Vegeta said, ignoring her attitude.

"What I really believe is that if I don't do something to get my life back under control, I'll go nuts." With that, Bulma lifted her chin and scrolled through the next entry.

Vegeta placed one hand palm down on the desk and the other on the back of Bulma's chair, effectively making a cage out of his arms. "Were you going to let me know if you found anything in the database?"

She was smart enough not to answer a question asked in the deadly quiet tone Vegeta was using. She also understood body language enough to know that Vegeta was deliberately trying to intimidate her, so she resisted the urge to squirm in her chair. Silence continued, punctuated by the occasional click of the mouse Bulma used as she worked her way through the photos.

"Were you, Bulma?" he leaned closer, frankly looming over her. He was angry and sisnt mind letting it show. "Were you going to let us in on your little side investigation, tell us if you found a suspect? Or maybe you were just slip on your Wonder Woman costume and take the guy yourself, huh?"

Bulma leaped to hr feet and tried to stare Vegeta down. It was a difficult task, given the fact that he was a head taller. "I'm not an idiot. How come if you look through the catalogue for suspects you're just doing your job, but if I do it I'm some kind of nutcase with a Nancy Drew complex?"

"Because it's my job," he said

She drew in a breath that was half a sob. Until that instant she hadn't realized how stressed she was. "Your job. But it's my life. You go to the office, work on the case, then close your files and o home. I don't have any place to leave this locked up. Someone else is calling the shots, but I have to live with the results twenty-four hours a day."

Vegeta's anger faded as he tried to imagine what it would be like to have his life turned upside down, then have strangers controlling his attempts to get things back to normal again. He'd be mad as hell.

"I have no idea what progress, if any," she said, "has been made on a case that has me afraid to stay in my own home. Worse, I feel like I'm being treated as a suspect, when in reality I've done nothing except be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Vegeta clasped her rigid arms gently. "I'm sorry you felt that way." He waited until she looked up and met his eyes. "But until we're certain that the murder was a stranger to Renata Mendes, we have to give that avenue all out resources and attention. Stranger murders-murders where the killer isn't known to the victim- are damned uncommon. The dead woman is, and has to be, our first concern. But I'm sorry if we've made you feel like we didn't trust you."

Bulma looked intently into Vegeta's eyes and sighed. She couldn't stay angry in the face of his sincerity. "Don't be nice to me," she said. "I'm still mad at both of you."

Vegeta let out the breath he'd been unconsciously holing. "No one can stat mad at Goku for long," he said with a small smile.

"How about you?" Bulma asked still looking at Vegeta.

Goku answered. "He lacks my charm and doesn't grovel worth a damn. There are probably some outstanding contracts on his life as we speak."

She smiled faintly at the image of either man groveling. "so what's the plan the?" she asked to break the tension. "Juu and I have been through the catalogue entries up to _F_, and we've made a list of some names we think should be investigated. I know you're not convinced that looking through the database will help any, but how much can it hurt?"

"Can you give us one day before we pursue that?" Vegeta asked. "We'll get the catalogue, I promise. Can you trust me, just for one more day?"

_Trust me._

In experience, those were famous last words coming from a man, but she told herself it was just temporary. Twenty-four hours wouldn't seem like much to most people. But was asking her not to get involved in an investigation that was now her life. She wondered if he had any idea what he was asking and how deeply it went against her nature. Then she looked at him and realized he did understand, yet asked for her trust anyways.

She reminded herself it was only for a day. "Will you keep me updated on your progress?"

Vegeta recognized it as the compromise it was. "We'll tell you whatever we can, especially if it has to do with you."

Bulma gave him a long look. She'd never been around anyone who could be so composed and yet angry at the same time. It was his strength of will more than anything else that angered and intrigued her. She'd never met anyone who could stand up to her when she was really mad. He'd not only done that but he'd also gotten her to agree to a compromise-a word not normally found in her vocabulary.

"All right. But I want regular reports," she added.

There was the steel that lay underneath the curls and sexy body, Vegeta thought with a smile. He was getting used both ways. "Agreed. Now, why don't you take the doctor's advice and go home and rest for a few more days."

Bulma shot him a 'get real' look. "Like you, I have a job. Dr. Springer said to let pain be my guide, and I feel just fine. I'm working from Chichi's home, not sleeping around the clock. I'll talk to you soon." she left the room, followed by Juu.

As soon as the door closed behind the women, Goku turned and raised an eyebrow at Vegeta. "Wonder Woman uniform?"

"Fuck you," Vegeta said with half a smile.

Goku laughed and tried to remember the last time he'd seen someone get to Vegeta as fast as Wonder Woman had. "Is that what you're going to tell Captain Broly?"

Vegeta stopped smiling. With every hour he hand Goku didn't make any progress on the case, the captain got more impatient about not using Bulma. And putting Bulma in the line of ire was something Vegeta was not ready to do.

* * *

A/N: Sorry it took me months to update but I finally did. To all the readers that have taken the time to review this fic., thanks a million. I dedicate this chapter to y'all. I promise that my next chapter will be out sooner this time so be patient. Once again thanks a mil.

**P.S. REVIEW! 5 REVIEWS SOONER UPDATE**.

**P.S.S.** If you find any mistakes while you read this chapter, please let me know. Thank you

_LATERS_


	12. Chapter 12

**DIS: DO NOT OWN**

CHAPTER 12

North City

Saturday morning

"We're so relieved that you weren't seriously hurt, Bulma. What happened exactly?" Maron Messer's voice dropped, inviting Bulma to share the juicy details of the night she was injured. "The only thing Mr. Salk said was that you had been attacked near 40th Circle."

Bulma wished that Maron had chosen another day to pile up overtime. Maron was an _I _was a crucial link in the network of the office gossip. While the young woman was pleasant and even friendly, she couldn't wait to tell whoever cared to listen over the wall of the bathroom stalls all about the intimate details of Bulma's life.

That's what had happened the one and only time Bulma had dated someone she worked with. The office rumor mill had gotten hold of details from Bulma's scorned ex. She hadn't forgotten the humiliation of having her failed relationship discussed in rest rooms and over the water cooler in the employee lounge.

"Sorry, the police asked me not to talk about it. But I appreciated your concern." Bulma somehow managed to say the words without choking.

After closing her office door so she wouldn't be disturbed by other people playing weekend catch-up, she made her way steadily through the voice mails, messages, and faxes she hadn't been able to clear out yesterday. She tried very hard to focus on her clients and accounts, but in the back of her mind a timer slowly counted down, ticking off the minutes in the twenty-four hours she had promised Vegeta. At exactly one minute after eleven, Bulma still hadn't heard from the police. No missed calls were listed on her cell phone. She dialed Chichi's number.

"HI, Chi. Any messages for me?"

"No. Don't forget-late brunch with Juu today. Be ready to do decadent girly stuff. We all need a little break."

"I won't forget."

oooooooooooooooooo

Annoyance gave a snap to Bulma's stride as she walked to the metro station. She was in time to catch the train that would drop her close to Vegeta's office. The cars were full of tourists and kids, who ranged from excited to whiny without warning. Coming to the top of the long escalator exit from the metro, she saw that the skies were threatening rain. She still hadn't replaced the umbrella she'd lost the night of the murder, so she hurried to beat the storm. She just made it through the door as the rain let loose. Inside the police station, an older man sat behind a desk, chatting with a woman leaning on the counter.

"I'd like to speak with Detective Ouji," Bulma said.

The woman turned and gave her an assessing look. "I'll take her Frank. Follow me." The woman tuned down a long corridor. "I'm Chastity- are you a salesperson o something?"

"No, I'm Bulma Briefs. Detective Ouji and his partner as working on my case."

"Right. Well, this is where Vegeta and Goku should be."

Bulma looked at the empty chairs.

"Wait here and I'll go get them out of the kitchen," Chastity said with a wink. She headed for the doors at the other side of the room. "They're probably mainlining caffeine."

Bulma looked around the men's work area, trying to guess which desk belonged to whom. She was pretty sure the desk closest to her was Goku's, given its cheerfully cluttered appearance. Leaning closer to confirm her suspicion, she saw a file. The tab on the orange folder was labeled Bulma Briefs and had a number, presumably a case identification code. She looked around quickly and reached for the file. As she read, a chill went through her body. Her jaw tensed as she flipped to her next page, and then the next. Settling into the chair with the file in front of her, she decided someone had a lot of explaining to do. She couldn't wait to hear it.

'Trust me'

From were she sat, that looked like another way to say 'Screw you.'

ooooooooooooooooooo

The man sat outside the gourmet coffee shop on 14th Avenue, sipping his iced latte. Despite the heat, humidity and scattered rain, he wasn't alone at the chic metal tables with their canvas umbrellas. He'd been playing with the latte for half and hour. In that time he'd seen Bulma's friend enter the building with bags from a local grocery store. Little Chichi.

He'd traced her name through the license plate on her car last week, which had also given him her full address. The fifth-floor apartment facing the street was hers. Right now she was going through the room opening blinds. No sign of his target yet, but he was confident Bulma would appear soon. He thought about his little surprise and wished he could be there to see how she reacted. Impossible, really, so he'd just have to imagine what she would do. That was almost as good. He was prepared to sit outside for the rest of the day if necessary, camouflaged with his massive book on the history of Western civilization and his North City University baseball cap. Just another grad student nursing a latte and eating biscotti while he crammed for summer finals.

He smiled at the thought.

ooooooooooooooooooo

Vegeta and Goku sat at a scarred table in the precinct coffee room, their chairs tipped back as each topped off on scalding coffee despite the sultry heat of the day and the room.

"The more we dig into Mendes, the less we find," Vegeta said.

"Everything we've found out about Bulma indicates that she's a law-abiding citizen from West City, working as a white-collar professional in North City for the last five years. She's trustworthy, mentally stable, financially solvent, and an all-around good citizen who would be happy to work with the police to lure—"

"No," Vegeta said stubbornly. "I found four more murders within a two-hundred-and-fifty-mile radius that remain unsolved, all involving Hispanic prostitutes or semi-pros stabbed with a large blade. The cases span the last ten years, with the most recent murder committed two years ago."

"If they really are connected to out guy, he's been at this for some time. I'm surprised the FBI hasn't picked up on the case yet."

Vegeta shook his head. "Different jurisdiction, large geographical area, and a long break between murders. Plus the victims were all turning tricks-not the type of victim who's going to inspire hock and outrage in the community. It's not surprising that no one has put the pieces together."

"But now the killer is escalating," Goku said.

"Yeah. At first there were years between the killings. Now we're talking six months between Renata Mendes and Cristina Herrera," Vegeta said grimly.

Goku shook his head. "Not good." And it would just make Captain Broly more determined to solve the case before another agency could step in, which Goku didn't need to point out.

"What did you come up with on Juu and Camelot?" Vegeta asked.

"Camelot is a legitimate operation, running at a decent profit. No outstanding debts, no lawsuits. Seems solid. Juu was registered as the owner just under three months ago, shortly before her sister's death."

"What about Juu herself?"

"Up until about ten months ago she lived outside of Silver Town. She taught theater and literature at a fancy boarding school for gifted teenagers. I guess she moved here when her sister was diagnosed with leukemia."

"What about the father of her kids?" Vegeta asked.

"They were never married. Apparently the guy was murdered on a business trip to Niland Island. Neither her coworkers nor her neighbors had ever met the man, though the neighbor across the street had seen him a couple of times."

"Murdered? What happened?"

"I don't have the details. Juu's former colleagues reported that she missed a month of school over a year ago. All the principal could tell me as was that Juu's boyfriend had been murdered on a trip to Niland or something, and she took some personal time afterward. She moved to North City to near her sister within a couple months of that, selling everything she had in Silver Town."

"Poor girl." Vegeta shook his head, wishing he could shield Juu from a homicide case that would doubtless bring up bad memories. He liked her straightforward approach and admired anyone who took on family responsibilities without complaint.

"Yeah. She's been through a lot already. The last thing she needs is to be involved in a murder investigation."

The door swung open and Chastity leaned in. "I knew I'd find you hiding in here," she said to Vegeta. "Bulma Briefs is here to see you."

The front legs of his chair came down with a bang. "She's out front?"

"No, I showed her where you and Goku sit. She's waiting for you."

"Thanks. We'll be right there," Vegeta said.

"Think she's still mad at you for kicking her out of Camelot yesterday." Goku asked slyly as they walked to their desks.

"She wasn't really mad, she's just one of those people who needs to understand the why of any situation. I think now she realized what we're trying to do and will leave the job to us."

Laughing, Goku hook his head. "Put down the crack pipe, buddy."

Goku was still smiling when he walked through the doorway and saw Bulma with an open file folder in front of her.

"Tell me that file isn't what I think it is," Vegeta said softly.

"Shit," was all Goku said.

"This is why you asked me for one more day?" Bulma asked calmly, without looking up from the file. "So you could have me investigated?"

"You want me to explain?" Goku asked softly.

"I'll take care of it," Vegeta said. "Give us a minute."

Goku grabbed his keys and left without a word.

"Investigating you wasn't my choice," Vegeta said to Bulma. "Captain Broly insisted that we have a full profile of you as a way of judging your reliability as a witness."

When Bulma raised her eyes from the folder and looked directly at him, he was jolted by the emotions he saw in her blue gaze.

"You asked for my trust, and then you investigated me. Kami, you talked to my neighbors and coworkers about my sex life." _Or lack thereof. _

The thought of Vegeta reading the contents of the file made her want to curl up and die of humiliation. Instead, she drew on years of hard-won poise and got to her feet. Vegeta had expected temper, even a shouting march, but she had just shut down. It made him nervous.

"Where are you going?" Vegeta asked.

"To Chichi's place." Bulma gathered her purse and raincoat.

"Why did you stop by to see me? Did you have something new?"

"I wanted a report on what you you've been doing for my case. I got it." She closed the older with her name on it and handed it to Vegeta. "Trust me."

"Goddamn it." He looked around the room, which was scattered with cops who made their living shoving their nose in other people's business. "We can't talk here. I'll drive you to Chichi's."

"That's too kind of you, Detective. I couldn't put you to so much trouble." She headed for the door.

He wrapped his hand around her upper am and said in a low, angry tone, "Lose the attitude. I'll be damned if you're going to make me feel guilty for doing my job."

Without waiting for an answer he steered her down the hall toward the back parking lot. When he stopped at the passenger side of a police-issue unmarked sedan, she pulled away.

"I don't think it would be a good idea for me to get in a car with you right now, Detective. Too many weapons within reach."

"The weapons are locked up."

"The radio cord isn't."

"Keep it up and I'll put you in back behind the cage," he said.

"This is called kidnapping."

"This is called getting you to listen long enough to calm down." He crowded her into the passenger side, locked the door, and closed it hard.

When he got behind the wheel, she didn't look at him. He leaned over and fastened her seat belt, telling himself that it wasn't another excuse to touch her. Bulma hung onto her temper because it made her feel less like a victim. The rational part of her mind knew that she wasn't being reasonable, but nothing about the last few days had been reasonable. She noticed that Vegeta turned onto the route that would lead straight to Chichi's apartment. Undoubtedly it was just one more fact he'd dug up on his investigation of Bulma Briefs, victim.

"Are you going to talk to me?" Vegeta asked after several minutes of silence.

She turned towards him. "Maybe I can understand why you did this, but it's the way you did it that pisses me off. You said 'Trust me' and then you violated my privacy. Next time you want to investigate my money situation, old boyfriends and lovers, you can come to me. Don't go talking about my private life to anyone who ever looked out their living room window and thought they saw a car parked in front of my place for the night."

"There is no need to make this personal."

"It's pretty damn personal."

"All right, but don't ask us to conduct an investigation with our hands tied. Look at it this way-if you were being stalked, we'd be talking to everyone who ever knew you, because you wouldn't be able to give us objective answers. You might not see an ex-boyfriend or date as a threat, but with our experience we can catch things you'd miss."

"As I'm sure your little file shows, there's no one in my past who cares enough to stalk me. I don't affect men like that."

"And that's a fine example of why we don't ask you about your life," Vegeta said.

"What does that mean?"

"Kami," he muttered. "Don't you have any mirrors? Of course you affect men like that. You're fucking gorgeous."

Bulma stared out the windshield and didn't say a word. She was too busy trying to see herself as gorgeous, much less fucking gorgeous. Unconsciously she shook her head. She couldn't see it.

Vegeta tried a different tack. "When you prepare a bid for a client, don't you thoroughly research a number of different alternatives, the present all the options, along with your recommendation for the best approach?" he didn't wait for an answer. "It's the same thing in police work, only it's more important for us to be thorough because if we screw up someone could die."

"Then why are you ignoring the dating service connection? It could be a big lead and you're just blowing it off! For all we know Renata Mendes could have been a member."

"Are you saying that the dating service fields sex workers?" Vegeta asked. "That's what the other victims were-prostitutes. Mendes wasn't a hooker, but she was Hispanic and in the wrong place at the wrong time. As for being a client of Camelot, that was one of the first things we checked after we talked with you. She wasn't."

"You could have told me sooner."

"The fewer people who know, the better chance there is to keep it out of the headlines." Vegeta turned into the driveway of Chichi' apartment building, released Bulma's door lock, and faced her. "This asshole cuts up women for fun. I want to catch him so bad I can taste it."

_So much for fucking gorgeous, _Bulma thought as she undid her seat belt. When Vegeta looked at her, what he really saw was a case to be solved.

"I believe you, Detective. Thank you for the ride." She opened the door and bolted.

Vegeta opened his own door and shot out to follow her.

"Hey, buddy," yelled the doorman as Bulma trotted by him. "Move the car before I call the cops!"

Bulma quickly crossed the lobby and pushed into a loaded elevator just as the doors were closing, the elevator stopped at every floor exchange passengers. When the doors finally slid open on the fifth floor, she stepped out into the hall and kept walking while she looked through her purse for the key Chichi had loaned her. Head down, she ran smack into a large male body. She knew without looking up that it would be Vegeta.

"Most people would be out of breath after running up five flights of stairs," she said, stepping around him.

"Guess I'm not most people," Vegeta replied, falling in step with her.

Bulma rolled her eyes. "What do you want?"

'_Progress_,' he thought cautiously. She was no longer calling him "Detective" in that cutting polite voice. "I wanted to make sure you're okay. You haven't been out of the hospital all that long."

Bulma stopped by Chichi's door. He was right, which only made the headache that was always lingering in the back of her brain worse. "I'm twenty five years old-but then, you know that, don't you?-and I've been taking care of myself for a long time, which you also know from reading my file. I'm just fine, thank you."

"You've never been a potential target of a serial killer before." Vegeta felt an angry tic begin in his left cheek.

Bulma saw the telltale tic and the fact that his dark eyes had turned cold with temper. "_Honey_, I've survived Mardi Gras in West City every year of my life. This is a piece of cake."

"Mardi Gras? For Kami sake"

She clucked her tongue and tapped his left cheek. "You're going to rupture something if you don't calm down." She smiled slightly, feeling much better for his loss of control. She turned and slid the key in the door. "If I'm that frustrating, why don't you stop fighting and work with me instead?"

It was her smile that did it. His hands shot out, captured hers, and pulled it towards his mouth.

"This is why," he said, pressing a hot kiss into her palm. He didn't take his eyes off hers as he parted his lips and gently stroked her flesh with his tongue.

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a soft sound of comprehension. With her heart pounding, she felt his warm tongue make a second leisurely slide across the suddenly hypersensitive skin in her palm. She moved closer, instinctively pressing her body against his as she came up on her tiptoes. Without conscious thought, she slid her free hand around his neck. She only had to tug once before he bent hi head down to her, stopping with his mouth a breath away from her parted lips.

"Hell," he said softly, and kissed her.

Bulma shut her eyes and savored Vegeta. As he captured her closed lips in a teasing nip, she decided he tasted like spearmint and coffee. When he stroked the line between her lips with his tongue, her toes curled inside her shoes and opened her mouth to let him in. a flash of heat shot through her body, bringing with it a restlessness she tried to soothe by pressing against him. She struggled to get closer, but he was too tall to reach the way she wanted to. Vegeta felt her arching against him and stopped thinking at all. He wrapped his arms around her back and straightened, lifting Bulma off her feet. Unable to believe she was actually kissing him back, he stroked repeatedly into her mouth with his tongue. Her responding moan made him tighten. He shifted his hold, trying to lift one of her legs around him so he could get as close as they both wanted, but he frustrated by her knee-length skirt. He wrapped his hand around her hip instead, squeezing and releasing the supple flesh.

When he heard a small thump echo in the hallway, he thought it might be one of her shoes falling off, but was too far off to care. He pressed her into the wall and continued the drugging kisses, concentrating on her taste, on the feel of her breast pressed against his chest and her hips arching against his erection. The sound of a door opening and closing down the hall finally got though to him. He couldn't believe he had lost his head so quickly. Breathing unsteadily, he stepped back and lowered her feet to the floor. He held her shoulders when she stumbled, thrown off balance by the missing shoe. The change from being kissed senseless to being set aside was like a shock of cold water. Bulma took several deep breaths and grabbed for composure. Rather than look at Vegeta, she glanced around for her missing shoe, giving herself some time to steady. He took an arm to offer support while she slipped her foot into the pump.

"Thanks," she murmured, and wondered if she looked as shell-shocked as she felt. _What do you say after your world has been tilted on its axis with a single kiss?_

"That was really stupid," Vegeta said, straightening his shirt and studying the top of her bent head. "I'm sorry."

_Okay, those weren't the words she was looking for_. Annoyed, she gave him a sideways look and spoke without thinking. "Never apologize for kissing a woman like that, honey. It makes her look foolish and you like a pig." She heard the cutting words and winced. "Damn. I didn't mean the pig part. I guess I'm sorry too. I, ah, got a little carried away." She fiddled with the gold hoop in her right ear.

"You didn't do anything. I'm the one who practically nailed you against your best friend's front door." He rubbed his neck in frustration. He'd never felt so out of control in his life. "Look, we've been taking shots at each other for the last two days, it's only natural that there would be some built-up tension between us. But I never should have kissed you," he said roughly. "It won't happen again."

Bulma narrowed her eyes at his tone. "Did I just stand there like an inflatable doll while your tongue was in my mouth? You didn't force me to do anything I didn't want to."

The look she gave Vegeta made him shift uncomfortably.

"Protecting me again, Detective? Or are you protecting yourself? She shrugged as if she didn't care. "Thanks anyways, but I'm a big believer in free will. You didn't take advantage of anything."

"I don't normally lose control like that."

She looked him over from head to toe. "Now that's truly a pity."

The key was still in the lock. Bulma had the apartment door opened and closed in Vegeta's face before he could think of anything to say. Automatically he tugged the light jacket he wore into place. It covered his holster just fine, but did nothing to conceal his hard-on. He walked uncomfortably down the hall, hoping he didn't meet any little old ladies taking trash out.

* * *

A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry. I know I had promised a sooner chapter but well my life got in the way. I hope you like this chapter and that I made up for my tardiness.

Also, if there is any misspelled words, sorry but I tried my best to update.

To all the readers that have taken the time to review this fic, thanks a million. I dedicate this chapter to y'all. My next chapter will be out no later than two weeks, I promise, so keep an eye out.

For those of you that read my other fic, ASSASSINS. Just be a bit patient with me. I have decided to add and change a bit the last chapters to make it fit with the new and improved outline that I made. I will let you know when all the renew chapter have been posted.

Once again thanks a mil.

**P.S. REVIEW! 5 REVIEWS SOONER UPDATE**.

_LATERS_


	13. Chapter 13

DIS: DO NOT OWN

* * *

CHAPTER 13

As soon as Bulma closed the door in Vegeta's face, she walked straight to the kitchen for some cold water, spotted the open wine, and poured herself a huge glass instead. Gulping half of the rich Merlot in one desperate swallow, she followed Chichi and Juu's idle chatter as they prepared brunch. Bulma hoped they would be too busy to notice her own appearance. She was sure her cheeks were on fire, and her lips felt both chapped and swollen. When she licked them, she swore she tasted spearmint. Groaning, she took another gulp of the red wine.

"Fettuccine Alfredo with garlic bread and Caesar salad coming right up. Not the usual brunch, but that's what I get for going shopping when I'm starved," Chichi said.

"How was work?" Juu asked.

"Fine," Bulma said. "I caught up on some things." At least she thought she had. Right now she was having a hard time remembering her own name, let alone what she'd done at the office before her world had tilted on its axis.

"Good," Chichi said. "Oh, the concierge downstairs received a package for you today. I put it on the buffet in the dining room."

Bulma wandered in that direction, her mind still _focused _on kissing Vegeta. He'd acted like it was wrong. But all she could think was that thirty years was a long time to go without ever being kissed in a way that made her toes curl.

She sighed and set her wine down on the buffet next to the white box wrapped with red ribbon. A foil balloon bearing the message "Thinking of YOU" was attached to the bow. Bulma undid the ribbon and looked inside while the helium balloon drifted slowly toward the ceiling. A folded card sat on top of white tissue paper, which hid the gift. Wondering if a client had sent the box, Bulma picked up her wine and drank as she flipped open the card.

_Bulma Briefs,_

_I so enjoyed our last meeting._

_I look forward to seeing you again soon._

She frowned as she tried to think which of her clients would send her a package without identifying himself. She set aside the card, then pulled out the wadded tissue paper to see what was inside the box. A black leather clutch purse lay at the bottom of the cardboard container, wrapped in what looked to be a rust-colored piece of cloth.

Bulma leaned closer. Her breath came in hard when she recognized her own purse, lost since the night of the murder. Breath froze in her chest as she saw that the cloth wrapped around her purse wasn't really rust-colored, but had once been a white floral sash that was now stained with dried blood. The wineglass slipped from Bulma's nerveless fingers, shattering on the hardwood floor and splashing crimson streaks on her pale legs. Her eyes darted to the card, open on the smooth wood surface of the buffet. The once innocent words became a malevolent threat.

Chichi came out of the kitchen. "Was that breaking glass? Are you all right?"

Blue eyes huge in her ashen face, Bulma looked at Chichi but couldn't force any words past her paralyzed vocal cords.

Chichi rushed toward her, ignoring the shards of glass and wine on the floor. "What is it, honey?"

"Bulma, do you feel faint?" Juu asked.

"The gift," was all Bulma could manage.

Chichi reached toward the box.

"Don't touch it!" Bulma said quickly. "It's from him:"

"Who?" Chichi and Juu asked.

"The killer."

"What do you mean?" Chichi asked.

Juu grasped Bulma's hand in silent support.

"It's my purse," Bulma said. "The one I lost the night of the murder. And there's some kind of fabric wrapped around it with ... God, I think they 're bloodstains. And the note. Read the note."

Silence grew as both women read the note without touching it.

"I'm not imagining things, right?" Bulma said. "That's a threat."

"Come away from here," Juu urged, tugging Bulma toward the living room.

Bulma looked down at the floor as broken glass gritted under her feet. "I should clean that up," she said automatically.

"Later." Juu tugged again at her hand. "Come sit down. You've had a bad shock."

"I'm calling the police," Chichi said. "Do you still have Vegeta's"

"In the pocket of my raincoat," Bulma responded numbly. "Use the cell number."

Within moments Chichi was dialing. She waited impatiently while it rang three times. He answered on the fourth, sounding like his mouth was full.

"Yeah?" he said.

"This is Chichi King. Something's happened. How fast can you get here?"

"I'm at a deli just down the street. What's wrong?"

"Someone sent Bulma a package. Inside is the purse she lost the night of the murder, along with a pale piece of cloth that looks like it's been splashed with blood. And there's a note saying how he can't wait to see her again."

"Kami. Listen, don't touch anything! That's very important. Lock all the doors. I'll be right there"

"Hurry," Chichi said.

Vegeta didn't answer. She was talking to dead air.

000

North City

Saturday afternoon

Vegeta made it in three minutes flat because he didn't wait for the elevator. Half-eaten deli sandwich in hand, he ran up five flights of stairs and hammered on the door. "It's Detective Ouji. Let me in."

The sound of locks opening pleased Vegeta-good locks and lots of them-even as it irritated him. Come on, come on, open the damn door. When a crack of light showed, he didn't wait for an invitation.

"Where is she?" he demanded as he pushed past Chichi.

"In the living room."

"Dump this somewhere," he said, shoving the sandwich in her hands. "And lock the door."

"Please, thank you, you're welcome," Chichi muttered. Again, she was talking to herself. Vegeta was already gone.

Bulma was sitting stiffly next to Juu on an overstuffed couch. Squatting on his heels, Vegeta took Bulma's icy hands in his. Her pale skin and rigidly composed expression made him realize how vibrant she had been earlier in

the hallway, when she'd kissed him like she'd just discovered sex.

"Bulma? You okay?" he asked roughly.

"Fine." She noted his rapid breathing. "You took the stairs again. There was no need to come storming up here "

"Just doing my job, ma'am." He said it in his best cop voice in an attempt at humor.

She smiled briefly, then looked in the direction of the dining room. "It's in there."

Vegeta studied her for a moment longer, seeing the effort she was making to remain calm. Good girl, he thought admiringly. With a gentle squeeze he released her hands and went over to the white box on the waist-high wood buffet. He saw the spilled wine and broken glass Chichi had started to clean up, and stepped around as much of the mess as he could. Looking down into the box, his jaw clenched when he recognized the bloodstained fabric wrapped around the purse. It matched the dress Renata Mendes had been wearing the night she was murdered. He'd been right the killer had taken a trophy to remember his latest victim.

Vegeta carefully examined the black purse. Pulling a pen from his pocket, he used it to shift the fabric aside and open the purse's leather flap. A cursory glance showed a wallet and compact, but no keys. Next to the box was an open white note card. After Vegeta read the short message, he began cursing viciously. When he took a breath, he smelled Bulma's delicate floral perfume. She was standing very close.

"Now would be a really good time to tell me I'm getting paranoid and letting my imagination run wild," she said without much hope.

He turned and met her dark gaze, wishing he could give her that reassurance. He couldn't. All he could do was offer a comforting squeeze of her shoulder before he pulled out his cell phone and called Goku. When his partner answered, Vegeta could hear loud conversation and music in the background. Bulma wasn't the only one who liked midday parties.

"Sorry to crash the fun," Vegeta said, "but I need you and a crime scene unit at Chichi King's apartment ASAP."

"What-are they all right?"

"Yeah. Looks like the killer sent Bulma a little present"

"Shit. Not good."

"Tell me about it." Vegeta hung up and steered Bulma back over to the couch.

"When and how did the package come?" he asked her.

Chichi answered. "The building concierge said it was delivered for her during the morning." She glanced at the clock, "Their office closes at noon on Saturday. It won't open until eight on Monday morning "

"They'll open for me," Vegeta said.

"How did the killer know Bulma was here?" Juu asked from her seat on the couch.

"I suppose he could have followed me from work or something," Bulma said unhappily. "My business cards have my work address, and I always carry some in my wallet."

The thought that she had put her friend at risk chilled Bulma. She shot to her feet. "That's it. I'm going home. I won't have Chi in danger."

"You're not going anywhere!" Chichi said loudly, hands on hips.

"I'm leaving and that's all there-"

"No way in hell you're going home." Vegeta's deep voice cut through the argument.

Bulma turned on him. "Somehow I've led a killer right to Chichi. I've got to get out of here."

"Think," Vegeta shot back. "He's still got your keys, and he knows where you live. But you're right about leaving here. You'll have to stay at a hotel. Staking out a public place like that will take a lot of manpower, but .. " He shrugged. "Has to be done "

"She can stay at my place," Juu said. "I have a house in Georgetown, which would be much more comfortable than a hotel. There's an alarm and new locks "

"No. I won't put anyone else at risk," Bulma said.

Vegeta ignored Bulma and spoke to Juu. "That would be better than a hotel. Much easier to secure." He turned to Bulma. "Can you arrange for time off?"

"They owe me three weeks of comp time and three weeks of vacation, but-"

"Good. Take care of it with your boss."

"You really think that's how he found me? He followed me from work?"

"Did you have business cards in your purse?" Vegeta cut in.

Bulma shuddered. "All right. I'll arrange to work from home for a while, wherever home' is." She looked at Chichi. "I'm so sorry to drag you into this." She glanced back at Vegeta's grim features. This icy, analytical man wasn't anything like the one who had pressed her up against the front door and kissed her until her toes curled. Dangerous territory. Hormones kill brain cells. She took a deep breath and tried to be as analytical as he was. "What about Juu and her babies? It's too big a risk."

"We'll stay with my mother," Juu said quickly. "She'll be thrilled. She never wanted me to buy my own house in the first place."

"I can't let you-" Bulma began.

"Hush," Juu said. "You wouldn't even be here if it weren't for me "

Vegeta turned to Chichi. "I don't know how long you'll be out of this apartment, but it will be at least a week."

Chichi was already making lists in her head. "I'll start packing."

Bulma's objection was lost as the doorbell chimed and Goku's voice called out. "Detective Son. Let me in."

Vegeta went through the locks faster than Chichi had.

"Forensics team is right behind me," Goku said, breathing more deeply than usual. "They took the elevator with all their stuff."

"The box is in the dining room if you want to take a fast look." Vegeta shut the door behind Goku. "And watch out for the broken glass."

Goku raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He went into the apartment, talked briefly with everyone, and walked to the dining room to study the package. With a sense of unreality, Bulma watched as Vegeta opened the door again for several evidence technicians, each carrying cases of equipment. Very quickly the apart­ment was a hive of activity. She started when she realized that Vegeta was calling her name in a patient voice.

"What?" she asked.

"We'll take a formal statement from you later. For now, pack your things. An officer will be here in half an hour to take all of you to Juu's house." He didn't add that an unmarked car would make sure no one followed, and that he really hoped the killer was stupid enough to try it.

"An escort," Bulma repeated. "Great. Just great. What's happening to my life?"

Vegeta opened his mouth, only to be cut off.

"Oh, never mind," she said. "That's what I get for letting my toes curl." She stalked off to pack her suitcase.

Goku locked the door as the last of the evidence technicians left Chichi's apartment. "Okay," he said to Vegeta. "Talk."

"About what?"

"Whatever is making you look so sour. The women are safe, nobody followed them, so what's chewing on you?"

"The fact that I was right about our killer fixating on Bulma " Goku didn't buy it. "What else?"

Vegeta sat on Chichi's couch and scrubbed at his face with both hands. "I've screwed things up."

"How?"

"Bulma. I drove her over here and we talked-Argued. Then I got kind of distracted."

"Distracted?"

"I stuck my tongue in her mouth."

Goku managed not to laugh out loud. "So? Did she bite it off?"

"You're laughing, and I've fucked up the case."

"Vegeta," Goku began.

"I never should have done it, never should have let my dick take over in a professional situation. She's a witness. One who is now in need of police protection." Vegeta stood up and started pacing. "Did you see how upset she was at finding that box? If I'd stayed, if I hadn't run out of here like my ass was on fire after kissing her, I might have been able to spare her some of that"

"Anyone with half a brain," Goku said patiently, ignoring everything but the main point, "could look at the two of you and see a hell of a lot more than a kiss in your future."

Vegeta glared at Goku. "No way I'm that obvious."

Goku just shook his head. "Hopeless."

"Shit. Maybe I should just take out a full page ad in the North City Post about how I come on to witnesses."

"You don't."

"I did."

"Did she mind?"

Vegeta stopped pacing and almost smiled. This time Goku laughed. "Lighten up, cousin, and thank the gods for a break in the case."

"What break the techs were muttering about not finding anything worth their trip out here."

"We know who the guy's intended victim is. We have her under twenty-four/seven guard. She knows what he looks like or probably will if she sees him again. So let her go looking."

"No." Vegeta's voice was hard. "Too dangerous."

"Have you asked her?"

"No."

"Then how can-"

"No! Weren't you listening? I can't think like a cop when I'm near her and if I'm not thinking like a cop I could get her killed! This whack job is playing with her, with all of us. That's a change in his pattern. We need to get a real psychologist in on this ASAP, instead of tinkering with a profile ourselves."

Goku rubbed a hand over his stubbly jaw. "You're right about that part. I'll secure the apartment and follow up with the management company. You jack up the shrink and check out the security arrangements at Juu's house."

"Security is your specialty," Vegeta shot back as he headed toward the door. It slammed behind him as he left. Goku sighed. It had been worth a try.

000

North City

Sunday

"I still don't think this is a good idea." Chichi's voice echoed in the deserted lobby of the office building.

Bulma ignored her friend, showed her passport as ID to the security guard, and continued to the elevator.

"Shouldn't we wait for the police?" Chichi asked.

"I left a message on Vegeta's voice mail. If he wants to join us here, he's welcome to." She didn't mention the fact that she'd deliberately called his office number and left the message there, instead of on his cell phone. Chichi's silence was almost accusatory as they rode up to Camelot's floor in the elevator.

"Besides, all I am doing is reactivating my dating service membership after a brief lapse. This has nothing to do with the investigation," Bulma said.

"Bullshit. If you're going to come up with excuses to stick your nose into police business, at least make them good ones." Chichi marched out of the elevator and went to the door of Camelot Dating Services, Inc.

Bulma followed and knocked on the door. "Juu? You in there?"

"Hang on." The door opened, and Juu appeared. She looked stylish and carefree, dressed in a pretty summer outfit on a hot Sunday afternoon. But as soon as she locked the door behind her friends, she started in on Bulma.

"Are you sure you should be doing this?" Juu de­manded. "What about the police?"

"I'm not really doing this for the investigation," Bulma said, speaking fast.

"I'm just going through the catalogue looking for men who have common interests. A date possibility. That's what I paid for, right? If I happen to come across a picture that reminds me of the killer in any way, I will of course involve the police right away. But at this moment, I'm here looking for love." Juu stared at her in disbelief.

Bulma didn't try again. Everything she said sounded lame even to her. She sat down at Juu's desk and looked at her. "You're the expert at this. What's next?"

Juu looked at Chichi as if expecting her to reason with Bulma.

Chichi shrugged. "When she gets an idea like this, forget reason" She turned and glared at Bulma. "But you will be very, very careful, do you hear?"

"I promise, Mom."

"I'm still not comfortable with this," Juu said in a worried voice.

"Why?" Bulma asked blandly. "All the men in your catalogue have been checked out, right?"

"We could have missed something. We must have."

"The police sure don't think so, or they'd have me staked out in front of the photos. As they put it, I could have seen the killer's photo in a lot of places."

"But-" Juu began.

"Let's all be realistic here," Bulma cut in. "What are the chances that I'd stumble across a serial killer and actually know him from a club where I'm a member? Those are really pitiful odds."

"Yes, but what are the chances of stumbling across a serial killer at all, let alone one who is in the act of committing a murder?" Chichi asked. "Besides, the school is close. It's not inconceivable that the guy would have become familiar with the area after visiting Camelot a few times, then maybe decided to stalk his next victim here."

Bulma ignored the icy feeling she got in her stomach whenever she considered the killer and the crime scene. She wondered how long it would take for the terror to fade. Or if it would fade.

"I appreciate your concern," she said to Juu and Chichi. "But right now, I need your support. I need to do something, and this is the only thing I can think of that might help."

"Of course you have our support," Juu said, sitting at her computer. "I just don't think it's safe for you to be going out with anyone right now. At least not until the police have done their own background checks on the candidates "

"That's good," Chichi said quickly. "Attacking a problem head on like you normally do might not work this time."

Bulma considered the idea. It might be a workable compromise, something she could discuss with Vegeta later. "I'll talk to Vegeta about it."

Juu held up a hand suddenly to quiet the other women as she heard the muted ding of the elevator. There shouldn't be anyone with access to the building on a Sunday afternoon, at least not on this floor. Bulma and Chichi had gotten in because Juu had cleared it with security first-But none of her employees had that authority, or after-hours badge access. The only one who did was her mother and she was home with her grandchildren. All three women paused at the sound of footsteps in the hall.

"Security?" Chichi asked. Juu shook her head. Adrenaline kicked into Bulma's blood. "Did you lock the outside door?" she asked very softly.

Juu nodded, then listened with a sense of disbelief to the distinct sound of Camelot's front door opening. Eyes wide, she jumped up and shut the door to her office as quietly as she could, turning the flimsy lock set into the door knob. Then she backed up toward the other women as she heard the squeak of shoes on the smooth wooden floor of the hall.

Bulma had unconsciously grabbed a letter opener off the desk, and she watched with wide eyes as Chichi picked up a pair of scissors lying on Juu's desk. Juu looked around for something that she could use as a weapon. The doorknob turned. Once. Twice. The tiny lock held. After a brief pause and a scraping noise, the knob turned again. The door opened. Bulma's heart was pounding so loudly that she was sure everyone could hear it. She flashed on the night of the murder, the only other time in her life she'd felt this type of adrenaline rush and terror. Vegeta walked in. He smiled grimly when he saw their tense faces and the makeshift weapons they carried

"They're here," he said.

"Thank God," Goku said, crowding in. One look told him that everything was all right, except that his cousin was going to kick some well-shaped butt. A smart man, Goku took a seat at the back of the office and waited for the fireworks.

"At least the three of you had enough sense to be afraid," Vegeta said.

"How did you get in?" Juu said. "The door was locked."

He held up the credit card he'd used to pop the flimsy locks. Chichi was closer, so he disarmed her first.

"Kami! You scared the hell out of us," Bulma said, waving the letter opener.

Vegeta plucked it out of her clenched fingers and examined its shiny length with interest. "You could do some damage with this, but you'd have to get pretty close."

"Oh, yeah? Why don't you let me try on you?" Bulma smiled at Vegeta, showing more teeth than humor. Her pulse was still pounding, and she could feel the nauseating emptiness adrenaline had left in her stomach.

"Some other time, when you aren't mad enough to stick it in me." As he spoke, he slipped the letter opener into the back pocket of his jeans, well out of her reach. "Now, why don't you tell me what you're doing here alone on a Sunday afternoon when you know very well that you're being stalked by a serial killer?"

His voice was calm, patient, reasonable. It made Bulma nervous as hell because she sensed he wasn't any of those things. She cleared her throat. "I, ah, guess you got my message."

"What message?"

"The one I left on your voice mail at the office," Bulma said.

Vegeta shook his head.

"Then how did you know where we were?" she asked.

"Why did you call my work number instead of my cell phone?"

"I asked you first," she shot back.

Vegeta reminded himself that he was a professional. Calm, patient, and reasonable. "We have an unmarked police car parked outside Juu's house at all times, watching over you and Chichi. When you. both left today, they followed you here, then called me. On my cell phone," he added pointedly.

Bulma flushed. She was embarrassed that she'd been caught taking the coward's way out and leaving a message on his work phone.

"What are you up to?" he said. "And don't tell me it's nothing. It ain't gonna fly," he drawled in a fair imitation of her slight accent, the one that would come out from time to time, especially when being upset

Unable to lie while making direct eye contact, she didn't even bother to try. Instead, she began drawing aimless designs on Juu's desk. "It's pretty simple, Detective. I paid for a bunch of dates and I'm going to go through the catalogue until I get them." Goku laughed out loud. She glared at him.

"So we're back to the catalogue," Vegeta said.

"That's why I came here in the first place, remember?"

"You actually think I'd let you go out with anyone from Camelot's catalogue?"

It was the calm patience and reason in his voice that pushed her over the edge. She looked him right in the eye and drawled, "I actually think that you don't have any say in the matter, honey. I'm single, over the age of consent, and pay my taxes on time. Last time I checked the local laws, I don't need police permission to date."

"You're going to stand there and tell me this has nothing to do with the investigation?" Vegeta asked.

Bulma shrugged. "No. But I defy you to prove otherwise."

Despite the anger in his gut, Vegeta kept his voice level. Every time he lost his temper with Bulma, she got around him. Besides, there was a possibility-admittedly not much of one-that if he kept a lid on his temper, he wouldn't end up kissing her until he didn't have a single brain cell left above his belt.

"Are you such a control freak that you can't trust the police to do work you're not competent to?"

"It doesn't have anything to do with trust," Bulma said.

Vegeta stared at her. She didn't look away. She was telling him the truth, no matter how ridiculous it sounded to him.

"Vegeta, let me feel like I'm more than a victim," she said. "I have an idea, something to get to the information locked away in my memories, I want to help-I need to. Can you understand that?"

"Why don't you tell us your idea?" Goku asked from the back of the room.

Bulma gave him a grateful look before meeting Vegeta's icy eyes again. "It seems pretty clear to me that the killer has, for whatever reason, decided to communicate with me. So I thought I'd go through the dating catalogue and make contact with all the candidates I react to, even if I don't know why."

"Assuming you're right;" Vegeta said evenly, "there are hundreds of pictures in the catalogue. How can you pick the right one?"

"I just know if I see the killer's face again I'll recognize it in some way, even if only subconsciously. Once I pick out the prospects, I can set up a date or something. Then he'll have to come out of hiding."

"Fuck me," Vegeta said. "I knew you were up to something crazy." Bulma gave up on convincing him. She turned to Goku. "You know he won't be able to resist if I contact him directly. Then you can catch him before he hurts anyone else."

Goku met Bulma's pleading gaze and mentally weighed Vegeta's sanity against the importance of getting a predator off the streets. As a cop, his choice was obvious. But as Vegeta's family, he braced for the fight he knew his words would trigger.

"She's right," he said to Vegeta. "It's the best chance we have to draw the killer out into the open before he cuts up another woman."

"Bulma's a civilian," Vegeta shot back. "We can't use her as bait. Besides, what's to keep the guy from guessing he's being set up as soon as he sees that his next date is one Bulma Briefs?"

"Yeah, he might guess," Goku said. "But he's a risk taker. An adrenaline freak. He'd get off thinking he could outsmart us."

"I don't believe this. She hit her head recently. What's your excuse-congenital stupidity?"

Bulma opened her mouth, but Goku was quicker.

"It's okay," he said to her, but it was Vegeta he looked at. "He's just pissed off because he knows I'm right, and he's too good a cop to ignore it any longer. He knows we don't have any choice. Not if we want to keep this bastard from

killing again."

In silence Vegeta measured his options against his waning hold on self control. "Yeah, well, it's an interesting idea. I'll kick it around with Goku, sleep on it, and let you know."

Bulma knew Vegeta was going to reject her idea, pat her on the head, and push her aside. She didn't like this calm, emotionless, reasonable Vegeta. She much preferred it when his mouth got tight, his cheek began to twitch, and he went nose to nose with her. And then kissed her.

"There's a plainclothes officer waiting in the lobby downstairs," Vegeta said. "He'll take you back to Juu's place."

Bulma opened her mouth to speak again.

"I said I'd think about it," he said softly.

She looked into his cool blue eyes for a long time, her heart sinking at the lack of expression. He wasn't really there, not emotionally. He was shut down and nailed tight, and there was nothing she could do to reach him. Bulma picked up her purse and walked out of the office without a backwards glance.

* * *

A/N: Well there you have it people an extra long chapter for all of you. I hope that will make up for the fact that it took me a while to update. I have been working none stop since I got a new job (between us working in Retail sucks) and I didn't have much time. This chapter was gonna be longer but I decided to cut it there and save what's left for the next chapter. To all the loyal people that keep reading this fic, THANK YOU. 

P.S. REVIEW! 5 REVIEWS SOONER UPDATE.

P.S. if you see any mistakes tell me, either that or ignore them.

_LATERS_


	14. Chapter 14

_**Chapter 14**_

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

North City

_Monday _afternoon

Vegeta walked through the doors to the police station late on Monday afternoon in a bad mood. He'd been working in the field all day, doing follow-up interviews with the investigating officers of several murders that might be related to the current case. The work had given him the excuse to avoid Goku. The two men hadn't exchanged more than a few words since they had left Camelot's offices yesterday. The object of Vegeta's anger was hunched over a pad of paper on his desktop, making notes and rubbing his jaw. He looked up when Vegeta went to his own desk.

"How did your interviews go?" Goku asked.

"Nothing new. The cases go so far back the lead officers couldn't remember much more than they had written in their notes."

"What about redoing some of the forensics?" Technological advance was one of the most powerful tools of the Cold Cases Division. Many outstanding investigations had been solved simply by applying new tools to old evidence.

"Already in the works." Goku nodded, then went back to his paper.

The silence finally got to Vegeta. It was one thing for him to be mad at Goku, who had damn well earned it. It was another for Goku to ignore him.

"What have you been working on all day?" Vegeta asked.

"Ways to use Bulma and the Camelot catalogue without undue risk to her safety," Goku said casually.

"There's no way to use her without putting her at risk. End of discussion." Vegeta jerked off his light jacket and hung it over the back of his chair, sweat outlined the shoulder harness.

"I said minimal risk, not no risk. It's our best hope of nailing the killer. We have her full and eager cooperation."

"She isn't a cop. She doesn't have any special training" Vegeta paced, arguing with himself as much as Goku. "We can't just throw her to the wolves because it _might _help us solve the ease."

"Shit. I've met S.W.A.T. guys who weren't as tough as Bulma. With some prep work we can turn her into a valuable asset. And what's more, it will let us keep a closer eye on her. She can do this, Vegeta. Or have you been so dazzled by the flesh that you haven't seen that cold-rolled steel backbone of hers?"

"Hell yes, I've seen it." Vegeta's voice was low, raw. He'd kept waking up in a cold sweat last night, imagining Bulma alone, at the mercy of a killer who gutted his helpless victims.

"How do you protect someone who won't admit she's in danger? If we use her, I'm afraid we won't be able to pull her out before she's hurt, Or dead. It scares the hell out of me." Goku stayed silent.

Vegeta sat down and leaned forward in his chair, elbowsbraced on his knees while he scrubbed his face with his hands.

"There's only one way to make sure she's safe," Goku said, "and that's to yank the bastard off the streets. If we work with Bulma we can monitor her every move. That's a lot better than wondering what the hell she's up to, isn't it?"

"I don't like it," Vegeta said. "My gut says this is a one way ticket to hell for Bulma. Get her out of North City. Hell, ship her to Bora Bora. "

"She wouldn't go. It's not in her to back down from a fight. And it's not in you, either," Goku said pointedly.

Vegeta slumped in the chair. "This is one fight where I'm completely outgunned. I've never been attracted to a witness or a team member before. The only thing keeping me from jumping her is distance."

"Yeah, that complicates things, but you're a professional. You can handle it. And when it's all over, well, it's about time you saw a woman you liked well enough to get tied in knots about. Whatever, I'll back you to the wall"

"Hell, I know that. It's just-" Vegeta stopped as he saw his captain walk in and head straight toward them. "Captain Broly."

"Didn't Son tell you I'd be by?" the captain asked, pulling up a chair and straddling it.

"I was just getting to that," Goku said. His eyes told Vegeta to brace himself. "The captain wants to make sure we're looking at all our options."

"Use the witness," Broly said bluntly. "She's willing, we're willing, and the press is getting restless. If we don't get somewhere soon, this case will bite us on the ass"

"Why?" Vegeta asked.

"Politics," Goku said.

"Fuck politics."

The captain just looked at Vegeta.

"Beautiful," Vegeta muttered. "Think of the nifty headlines if we use our witness and get her killed."

"Your concern is noted," Broly said to Vegeta. "We'll follow every precaution-keep her wired, have you two ride along ahead and behind, run full background checks on all of the men she dates, only meet in public places we have secured. You know the drill."

"She's a civilian. Why can't we use a policewoman?" Vegeta asked.

"He's seen her driver's license photo, remember?" Goku said.

"Hell, my own mother couldn't ID me from my driver's license photo," Vegeta retorted.

"Your mother needs glasses," the captain said. "Even if you're right about it, we can't afford to detail any more bodies to this case. You and Son are the best investigators I've got in this division. I'm counting on you to make the dating sting work before the press makes sure our next budget is even smaller than the one we have now."

Captain Broly stood up, returned the chair to its original position, and straightened his suit coat. "I'll expect to see your detailed plan within twenty-four hours, along with some requisition forms."

_**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**_

North City

Monday night

Bulma made a sound of annoyance as she set her cup down on the table next to Juu's comfortable couch. It was after eleven and she couldn't sleep. Didn't want to sleep, actually. When she did, her dreams were dark and disjointed, and she was no closer to remembering anything than she had been the night she was injured.

After going to bed early with a headache and jerking awake in a cold sweat, she'd decided that sleep was not going to happen again for a while. She took a warm bath with scented oil to help her relax. When that didn't work, she quietly went downstairs for a cup of herbal tea and some mindless channel surfing. That didn't do anything either. All she could think about was the killer, and how he might have been following her-watching her-before he sent his frightening "gift." She jolted at the sudden knock on the door, then realized one of the officers watching the house from the outside must need something. Tightening the belt on her short robe, she walked barefoot to the door.

"Who is it?" Bulma called softly, aware of Chichi sleeping upstairs.

"Vegeta. We need to talk."

Bulma looked down at her outfit, then shrugged. Vegeta had seen her in less at the hospital. She opened the door. He came into the entry and looked down at her. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, and her hair was pulled back into some kind of knot. She looked pale and tired, but still beautiful. He swept his eyes lower, running them over the short, jewel-toned robe she wore belted around her waist, then taking in her pale legs and bare feet. Abruptly he realized how late it wasHe checked his watch and cursed. After eleven. He'd been driving around for several hours, planning for the new path the investigation was going to take and telling himself that he could keep his hands off his witness. When he'd pulled up at the house, he hadn't even thought about the time. All the downstairs lights had been on, which was enough to have him out of his car and banging on the door without a second thought.

"Sorry to disturb you at this hour. The light was on, so ... anyway, we can talk tomorrow." He turned away.

"I can't sleep. You can't sleep." She shrugged. "You might as well come in. Chichi's out cold, so don't yell at me and wake her up." Bulma led Vegeta into the kitchen and closed the swinging door behind them.

"You want anything to eat or drink?"

He looked at her loosely closed robe and knew he should never have come here. She wasn't wearing any-thing underneath-he'd bet his life on it.

"No, thanks," Vegeta managed to say.

Instead of fidgeting or cleaning something, as she desperately wanted to do, she folded her arms underneath her breasts and leaned against the butcher block that formed an island in the kitchen.

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

Vegeta faced her with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. "There's been a change of plans-you're in on the investigation. We'll be using you to try and draw the killer out of hiding. Of course, that's assuming he really is a member of Camelot Dating Services in the first place."

Bulma felt a brief surge of triumph, like when she found out she'd been awarded a sales contract or a particularly challenging project, then she realized Vegeta was angry.

"You don't sound very pleased," she said.

"I'm not. If I had my way, you'd be in protective custody right now, instead of staked out like a sacrificial lamb"

"So why did you agree to the plan?"

"I didn't. The political heat is burning my captain's ass, he outranks me, and here I am." Vegeta began pacing the length of the kitchen, ticking off an imaginary list of items. "So this is the drill. We'll bring you in for a crash course in self defense-nothing major, just some close quarters stuff. We need to explain how the audio and visual surveillance is going to work, because you'll be wired for sound and will have visual contact with two officers at all times. There will also be some basic ground rules for 'dates' which Goku and I have to draft and go over with you." He stopped with his back to her. "Questions?"

She sensed his rapid-fire summary of details was meant to overwhelm and intimidate her. And it was working. "Why don't you want me involved? Do you think I can't pull it off?"

Vegeta sighed and ran a hand through his hair, but he didn't turn around and face her. "If sheer will and determination were all it took, I have no doubt you'd succeed. But this guy is good. He's been active for a long time, probably close to a decade. You don't get away with that many murders by being stupid."

"Then catching him however you can should be your number one priority."

Vegeta turned around and came back to stand in front of her as she leaned against the butcher block. She caught her breath at the look in his eyes.

"Not if it means risking you," he said.

She swallowed hard before answering. "I'm at risk whether I'm an active team member or not"

"I know. But I have a really bad feeling about this whole setup. If I could, I'd take you away somewhere and-" Vegeta broke off.

"And what?" Kami, was that really her voice? Somehow the question had come out husky and suggestive. He stepped closer to her, his nostrils flaring slightly as he caught the light scent of orange that clung to her skin. He looked into her eyes, which were pure black in the dimly lit kitchen, and saw a mirror image of the simmering tension he was feeling. His heart began to beat faster. He lifted a hand that was none too steady to her face, gently brushing aside a blue curl that had settled on her forehead.

"I think we both know what I'd like to do," Vegeta said. Then his breath came in hard when she leaned closer to him, more an emotional closing of the distance than physical. "Help me out here. One of us has got to be reasonable."

"Let me know when it's my turn," Bulma said.

She turned her face up to his, stood on her tiptoes, and brushed her lips softly against his mouth. He withstood the temptation for one brush of her lips, then another. By the third delicate pass he was gone. Kissing her back, he made a rough sound in his throat, then slid both hands around her waist and boosted her up onto the butcher block. Before she could murmur her approval, her knees were spread and he'd stepped into the space between, using one hand on her bottom to pull her closer to him. The combination of Vegeta's tongue stroking into her mouth and his hand pressing her into his body was almost too much for Bulma to handle. She cried out softly, the sound muffled by his lips. She moaned again and pressed herself against him instinctively, rubbing against his suddenly taut lower body in search of the sweet contact that would satisfy needs suddenly screaming through her system. At the repeated pressure of her hips against his, Vegeta broke off the kiss to groan quietly against her throat.

"Kami, Bulma, don't. I can't take it." He stayed there, with his head buried in the curve where neck met shoulder, and breathed in the exotic scent of orange oil trapped there. Her neck arched gently against his mouth, so he began to delicately kiss and nibble her soft skin. He felt her legs wrap tightly around him, thighs hugging his hips, while her hands reached inside his lightweight jacket to pull his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans.

Vegeta knew things were sliding out of control, and he didn't care. Bulma's hands were under his shirt, reaching as far up his bare back as she could with his weapon harness on. At the gentle scrape of her nails, his body tensed, and he abandoned her neck to press his mouth to hers again.

"More," she murmured between kisses, "more." The word repeated itself again and again in Bulma's mind, but she didn't realize she'd spoken aloud.

Vegeta did, and responded. Pulling himself away from her, ignoring her muted protest at the loss of contact, he stripped off his jacket and shoulder holster, put them on the counter, and reached for the belt of her silk robe. Within seconds he had the knot undone and was pushing fabric aside to reveal the bare flesh underneath. He studied her full breasts hungrily, feeling her eyes on his face. Looking up, he met her gaze and watched her cheeks flush a dusky red, even as she arched her back slightly to offer herself to him. Her deep rose nipples were already hard. They tightened further when he ran the back of one knuckle along the delicate underside of first one breast, then the other.

"Don't tease," she gasped. She gripped a double handful of his shirt, then smoothed her hands over his chest and began to undo the buttons running down to his waist.

"That's half the fun, Bulma," he said, repeating her name as she ran her hands across his bare chest. Bending over, he coasted his lips over the tops of her breasts, then turned and dragged his open mouth across a taut nipple. With one hand he arched her up against his lips and caressed her until she was flushed and tingling.

With his other hand he stroked the gentle curve of her belly, edging toward the aching place between her thighs. He paused to circle her navel, and her breath came in on a gasp. When he speared a thumb into the blue hair below and dragged across the tender flesh hidden there, her breath left in a soft cry. He kissed her lips gently, then used the arm around her hips to drag her to the very edge of the butcher block. Bending to take one nipple into his mouth and suckle in earnest, be began to run his thumb around and around the slick nub he had drawn forth.

Bulma's head dropped back as her body responded to his skilled teasing. She no longer explored his chest, but instead dug her nails repeatedly into the firm pads of muscle she found there. When she felt his hand press against one knee, then the other, she relaxed her thighs to allow him further access. Her eyes snapped open and met his when she felt a long finger circling the moist entrance to her body. Vegeta's pupils were dilated with passion, and the moment became almost unbearably intimate as he maintained eye contact and gently pushed his finger inside her. She made a soft noise, part pleasure and part protest, when he began to caress her with thumb and forefinger. Her thighs were shaking against his hips, and her breath came in gentle pants, but she didn't pull away from him or his intent gaze. When she felt a second finger join the first inside her slick body, then pause to find and stroke an unbelievably sensitive spot, Bulma jerked in Vegeta's arms. Finally, her eyes closed under the rush of pleasure, and her head once again dropped backwards, baring her neck to his hungry lips. The motion of his hand between her legs continued, first probing deeply then retreating to stab teasingly with his thumb. Bulma quickly reached the point of no return. She was taut in his arms, a rosy flush rising from her breasts up her neck.

"Stop," she whispered, blindly fumbling for his belt.

Vegeta didn't respond, just continued the stroking and probing caresses with his hand. His eyes were fixed on her face as he watched the changes pleasure brought. The pressure built higher than it ever had for her. Before she realized it was going to happen, the tension inside her snapped. She cried out sharply as she came, a sound he belatedly tried to stifle by pressing his mouth over hears and kissing her deeply. She moaned and moved against him as the waves of completion rolled through her. The kiss gentled as Bulma's breathing gradually slowed. Vegeta lifted both hands to frame her face, his eyes slightly open as he looked at her. He continued the kisses, moving his head one way, then the other, gentling her and preparing for the next level of sensation.

He laughed softly against her lips when she began to pull at his belt again. This time he helped her. Soon his belt and button fly were opened, and Bulma was running a hand through the slit in his boxers to brush against the hard flesh beneath. He murmured something encouraging but kept his lips pressed to hers. The contact between their mouths wasn't broken until they heard the kitchen door swing open. Vegeta jerked away from Bulma's mouth and looked over her head as Chichi walked into the room.

"Bulma? I thought I heard something-oops! "Chichi's face turned as red as her hair.

Bulma remained frozen in horror for a moment before jerking her hand out of Vegeta's jeans. With her back to Chichi, she hoped that she shielded all of the important parts of Vegeta's body, though there was no way to pretend they hadn't been doing what it looked like they were doing. Feeling a scorching blush work its way up her body, she dropped her face against him. Vegeta and Chichi stared at each other across the kitchen, she in her light floral robe and he with his shirt and jeans undone, standing between Bulma's bare legs and cradling her head to his chest. He opened his mouth, but his brain shorted out. He couldn't think of anything to say, so instead he pulled Bulma's robe up from her elbows to around her shoulders. He could actually feel the heat of her blush against his skin.

Chichi finally broke the moment of shared embarrassment. With a mumbled apology, she turned around and fled the kitchen. Jolted by the _whap-slap _of the door as it swung open and closed in Chichi's wake, Vegeta finally stepped back from Bulma and started to fasten his jeans. He winced at having to force his still aroused flesh past the rough denim of his fly, then he buttoned his shirt and reached for his shoulder harness. With her face still painfully scarlet, Bulma snapped her knees together and fumbled to belt the robe around her waist. She remained seated on the kitchen island, however, because she didn't trust her legs to hold her up. Pulling the hem of her robe as far down her thighs as it would go, she broke the awkward silence.

"That's got to be on the top ten list of reasons why I don't have a roommate," she said.

Vegeta laughed almost unwillingly as he pulled his lightweight jacket back on. His eyes were unhappy as he looked down at her. "I'm sorry. About this." He gestured toward her position on the wood block. "I shouldn't have done it."

"Done what?" she asked, deliberately misunderstanding. "Laughed? I think you should do it more often" She tried for nonchalance, but it wasn't easy, considering the fact that she was sitting half naked in someone else's kitchen, thighs trembling as she tried to recover from the most erotic experience of her entire life. And there was Vegeta standing in front of her, composure and clothing restored, talking about regrets.

"I'm serious," he said. "We can't let this happen again if we're going to be working together. It's just too dangerous-look how distracted we got tonight"

Bulma nodded numbly and felt the warm sensation inside begin to fade. She had never forgotten so completely about her surroundings before, never been at the mercy of her physical side. Sex, when she chose to have it, was a relatively civilized affair carried out in the privacy of a bedroom. And sex was always preceded by some kind of relationship based on mutual respect and affection. Those relationships had been few and far between, which probably explained why she had gone off like a rocket as soon as Vegeta had touched her. This was clearly just a case of rampaging hormones and mutual attraction. It was also a vivid demonstration about the dangers of still waters. She had previously chipped away at Vegeta's control in an effort to see what was beneath. Now she knew. Next time she'd think twice before she tried to get a rise out of hire. So to speak. Bulma winced at the image and tried to focus on how to get out of the current situation. Given Vegeta's mood, the best approach would be to go along with whatever he said. And she should do what she could to defuse the sexual tension that was still sizzling between them. All that would be a great deal easier if she could get off the damned butcher block and gather up what remained of her dignity. She started easing to the edge, only to have Vegeta lift her and set her gently on her feet.

"Say something," he said, watching her through narrowed eyes. "Give me an idea of what's running through that brain of yours."

"I agree with you completely," she said, leaning back on the wood to counter her wobbly legs. "We need to focus on the investigation, which is the only reason we ever met." There, that was the right approach. Unique circumstances had thrown them together, but they shouldn't read too much into the situation. Perfect.

"I'm glad you understand that, because if we screw this situation up, someone could get hurt." Vegeta wasn't sure if he meant physically or emotionally. He wasn't even sure which situation he was referring to, the investigation or their mutual attraction.

'_Stupid, sex-starved, moronic, Kami damned idiot asshole!'_

Vegeta gritted his teeth. He had to guard her and keep things on a professional level.

'_OK, so how about you actually keep your hands off her, instead of just talking about it?'_

Vegeta told the voice inside his head to fuck off and waited for Bulma to speak.

She nodded vigorously. "Absolutely. You're right. We don't want anyone getting hurt," she said, looking like the picture of reason.

"I'll, ah, let you get some sleep." He knew his discomfort had to be as obvious as the bulge in his jeans. "We're going to have a long couple of days while we get things in place and everything under control that we can."

'Damned if he wasn't babbling.'

"Sounds good. I'll just throw, um, show you out." She bit her tongue so she wouldn't say anything else incredibly stupid.

Afraid if he opened his mouth he would start blathering again; Vegeta didn't trust himself to say anything but "Good night."

Bulma shut the door behind him, threw the dead bolt, and pressed her burning cheek to the cool wood panel. How could things be so painful, so awkward, when not ten minutes earlier she'd been about to have sex with the man?

'_It's hormones, stupid.'_

She'd always been dismissive when she'd heard people claiming to be swept away by passion. Clearly she just hadn't met the right man yet.

'_Right man.'_

She jerked away from the door. Vegeta - wasn't the "right man." He was someone she had great chemistry with, but that wasn't the basis of a solid-relationship. Especially with someone who was fighting his attraction every step of the way, alternately kissing her and keeping her at arm's length. Maybe he was right and they should stag away from each other. Or at least try to.

_**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**_

North City

Tuesday morning

The man settled more comfortably into his folding chair and took a sip of cold coffee. He was sitting in front of a curtained window overlooking the narrow street, which allowed him to watch Bulma and her friend as they came and went throughout the day. He could also easily keep tabs on the two police officers assigned to watch over the house. His lips turned up in a croaked smile as he considered the officers. They were clearly assigned to watch Bulma, so when she left, they followed. They didn't pay much attention to the other homes along the street, no doubt assuming the upper-middle class residents of the stylish neighborhood would pose no threat. They probably thought the house he was in was vacant, given the tattered For Sale sign that had been leaning to the side in the overgrown front yard. It had been a simple enough matter to get in through the back of the house. He could park in the alley, cone through the gate, and enter the house at will, just as the majority of the other residents entered their own homes every evening. Not that anyone noticed him.

The neighborhood was home to up-and-coming young professionals who worked in downtown office buildings all day long. They paid no attention to yet another resident in a business suit, casually parking his nondescript rental sedan and confidently striding through the backyard to the house. Given the inflated asking price for the home, he was sure that realtors and prospective homebuyers wouldn't be a problem. He knew it was risky to stake himself out so close to Bulma. But that was part of the rush. It gave him a satisfaction that he couldn't get taking a more cautious approach to stalking his prey.

'_Sweet prey.'_

That's how he thought of Bulma. She was the prize in an ongoing game between him and the police. He didn't have any doubt as to how the game would end. The police were so stupid. He grinned as he considered how easily he'd found her new location. All he'd had to do was track down her little dark haired friend and follow her. He already had her license plate number, which in turn gave her name and address. From there, it had been a simple matter to search the Internet and determine that she was a city employee with the Social Services department. He'd staked out her building downtown and followed her from work to the place she now stayed in each night with Bulma. The house across the street. It had been luck, pure and simple, that the town home he currently occupied was vacant and up for sale-and had all its lights on a timer with a functioning A/C -but he'd learned to take whatever luck came his way. It was how he'd picked out his first prey ten years ago, and every victim since then. He'd told himself he would take the first dark-haired whore he saw, and he had. The rush had been incredible. He wondered who owned the home Bulma had moved into. From a distance he'd seen a blonde woman with short hair, but he hadn't been able to get her license plate number. He would look into pulling property records, but there wasn't any hurry. For now it was laughably easy to watch over his beautiful prey. Soon he would make his next move, but for now, he was enjoying the anticipation. The sexual jolt that carne when he considered his options, was too pleasurable. He wouldn't rush through the planning phase of his operation, no matter how eager he was to finally have her under his knife.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for taking so so long. hope you have enjoyed this chapter and i have made up for my delay. Also this chapter was getting pretty steamy so i had to edit a huge part. but if you are in the mood in reading the lemonie version then check out my webpage. just go to my profile and click on the web page address, once there just click on witness and there you will see theunrated chapter.

**P.S. 5 reviews gets youCHAPTER15.**

Laters


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

000DO NOT OWN000

* * *

North City

Wednesday afternoon

The tension in Juu's office at Camelot was so obvious that Goku felt like he could reach out and touch it. Clearly something had happened between Vegeta and Bulma, and they were both desperately trying to act as if it hadn't. Bulma slid a sideways glance at Vegeta's profile, then looked quickly away. She felt as awkward as a teenager on a blind date. Though it had been two days since they had practically jumped each other in Juu's kitchen, they had yet to speak in person. In fact, Vegeta had yet to speak to anyone in the room. He seemed to be absorbed in whatever was written in his notebook. Goku cleared his throat.

"Just so we're all on the same page," he said to Juu, "could you explain again how the dating service works and what the background checks involve? We don't need the sales pitch. We're interested in what goes on after the clients are gone."

"It's very simple," Juu said. "The members fill out a detailed questionnaire, which gives us insight into their preferences. These are then fed into the computer. The questionnaire also forms the basis of the background checks, which are carried out by a private investigation firm."

"What about the matchmaking process, or whatever you call it?" Goku asked.

"It's really up to the individual. The clients are invited to review the catalogue and pick out members who share similar interests, or they can let the computer cross-reference based on the questionnaire responses. We can then initiate e-mail or phone contact with the prospective date, and see where the couple wants to take it from there."

"So if they're interested, clients can have everything brokered through Camelot?" Goku asked.

"Yes. They can also do things completely on their own. We want to offer as much flexibility as possible."

"How do clients hear about Camelot? Do you advertise?" Vegeta asked abruptly, startling Bulma.

"Not in the conventional sense. We do place some personal ads and use a direct mail marketing firm. But the majority of our clients come from recruiting drives, open houses, or 'meet and greet' corporate cocktail parties. That's how Bulma heard about us when my sister was running the service," Juu added. Bulma shifted in her seat as all eyes turned briefly to her.

"You said before that these corporate parties have tapered off due to changes in the local high-tech business sector," Goku said.

"Yes. The last one was hosted by my sister before she got really ill, so it was at least five months ago."

Vegeta was silent as he wrote in his notebook. When he finished, he looked over at Goku. "I think our only option is to do an initial screen on every male listed in the catalogue, regardless of how he came to be a client."

"I agree. At this point there's no reason to exclude any able-bodied men between the age of twenty and fifty." Goku looked at Juu. "How many male clients do you have in your database?"

"Let me check," she said, typing rapidly. "Three hundred sixty-one male clients as of today who fit your description."

"Beautiful," Goku said in disgust. "Do you have any idea how long it would take to run checks on all those guys?"

"I thought you said getting male clients was a problem. How come you have so many?" Vegeta asked, ignoring his partner's outburst.

"We just completed a huge membership drive, specifically targeting men because the ratio was skewed. My sales staff was out for the last two weekends in a row, recruiting new clients in bars, restaurants, clubs, and malls. Then they came in on the following Mondays and entered all the new members into the database at once."

"How many men were added to the catalogue on the last two Mondays?" Vegeta asked.

Juu squinted at the screen as she typed in the query. "Over one hundred and fifty male candidates have been added in the last ten days. It's been a good sales drive."

"So based on the assumption that Bulma saw the guy's picture in the dating catalogue, we can eliminate these new additions and focus on the two hundred or so males who were clients prior to the murder," Goku said.

Vegeta nodded. "Two hundred is still a huge number to work with, but it's better than every guy in the catalogue."

Juu typed some more, then scowled at the computer screen. "I'm not sure about the best way to run that type of search. Let me go talk to our database consultant. I'll have him run the query and save the results in a file we can use for the remainder of the investigation." She left the room, closing the door behind her, Goku turned to Bulma.

"While we're waiting for that file, there's one more thing to go over. Vegeta and I have been working on a preliminary psychological profile of our killer—it's pretty basic, but there's one thing you can clarify to help us."

"What?" she asked eagerly.

"We need to understand what motivates the killer, what makes him do the things he does the way he does them. We'll look at his choice of victims, the way they were killed, how the, bodies were displayed, and what the crime scenes have in common. I'm sure you've heard about criminal profiling, which was first used by the FBI. This is basically the same type of stuff they'd be doing if they were involved."

"Why aren't they involved?" Bulma asked.

"Because the case hasn't been solved for them yet," Vegeta muttered under his breath, Goku coughed.

"Unless their assistance is specifically requested, it's up to the Bureau when and where they get involved with cases. Often they choose to get involved at the 'urn, tail end of the investigation." This time Vegeta was the one who coughed at the understatement. Goku continued, "At this point we don't have any evidence of crimes occurring in multiple states, just a theory. That's not enough for our department to ask for help from the Feds yet. Besides, the FBI has limited resources just like we do, and right now those agents are assigned to high-profile national security cases and terrorism task forces."

"What my partner is trying to say is that dead prostitutes don't even make a blip on the FBI radar screen, even though it's not politically correct to point that fact out," Vegeta said.

"Sounds like politics is politics, regardless of whether those involved work with law enforcement or computer programs. Anyway, how can I help? I'm not one of your forensic technicians," Bulma said.

Goku hoped he didn't look uncomfortable. He'd never had to question a woman his cousin was involved with—and whether or not Vegeta admitted it, he was involved.

"Well," Goku said, "one thing we don't have any insight into is why the killer would join a dating service. In fact, the whole dating angle doesn't fit your standard profile of a serial killer. They often don't have steady relationships with partners, either male or female."

"But wouldn't that be why he joined the dating service?" Bulma asked. "To find a relationship?"

"Many serial killers don't want any type of normal relationship, sexual or otherwise," Vegeta said. "They live in a self-created fantasy world. It's hard to maintain that world if there are significant others constantly intruding into the alternate reality in which the killer lives."

Goku nodded. "Many of these killers escape into fantasy to make up for whatever is lacking in their own world. Or to compensate for clinical mental illness. The degree to which the killer's fantasy is different from reality helps determine whether we're talking about a total social misfit, like Jeffrey Dahmer, or someone who can get around in society quite well, like Ted Bundy."

Bulma considered for a moment. "If you want my opinion, I'd lean more toward the Ted Bundy angle on this killer."

"Why?" Goku asked, intrigued.

"The way Camelot is set up, people have to be photographed as part of their profile. The clients then review the other profiles, including—let's be honest—the photos and bios. No one is going to sign up to date a troll, or a complete whack job like Jeffrey Dahmer."

"You think our killer must be at least passably attractive and successful in his career, otherwise he would have chosen another dating service with a more anonymous screening method?" Vegeta asked.

"Exactly. I mean, if the guy was a complete troglodyte with no social or professional life, he wouldn't have the nerve to put his picture in the catalogue. If you look through it, you'll see that all of the men and women in there are decent-looking professionals who have lots of normal hobbies and interests."

"What the hell is a troglodyte?" Goku asked.

"Your last girlfriend," Vegeta replied instantly. Bulma giggled.

"Didn't she date you first?" Goku asked.

Bulma laughed out loud, then pressed her lips together as Vegeta slanted her a look. He glanced at what he'd written in his notebook while he fought a smile at her infectious laugh. "I think it's an interesting theory, one we can run with for now. We'll need more, though."

"And you think understanding why people join a dating service will help you fill out this blank you have in the killer's profile?" Bulma asked.

"It's worth a try," Goku said.

She looked at the two detectives as they sat attentively, waiting for her answer. She tried to think of a way to explain to them what she had trouble explaining to herself.

How on earth had she reached the point where she needed to sign up for a dating service, and what did that say about her? Too personal, she thought. Generalize it.

"I suppose there are lots of reasons to join a dating service," she said, choosing her words with care. "People these days spend long hours at demanding jobs. It's difficult to meet members of the opposite sex while working eighty-hour weeks, or traveling a great deal."

"Yes, that's exactly the kind of insights we need," Goku said. "Go on."

"I imagine many people pay more attention to their careers than their personal lives," she said. "They always assume that a relationship will find them when the time is right. But when these people hit their thirties or forties, they realize their time is running out."

"So you hit thirty and the biological clock starts the countdown'?" Vegeta asked.

"It doesn't work that way with males," she said, wincing inside at what she had revealed.

"Anyway, male or female, it's hard to find safe places to meet strangers in the city, especially if one isn't into smoky bars or teenybopper clubs." Vegeta paused in his writing to study her intently, dark eyes serious. "You've described all sorts of reasons not to be dating, but why did you actually join Camelot? Did you want to be dating?"

Bulma narrowed her eyes at Vegeta's repeated references to her own life. She'd carefully phrased all her responses, trying to create a generic profile of a Camelot customer. The last thing she wanted to do was focus on her own rationale, her emotional state when she'd enrolled. She was afraid that would chip away at the tenuous wall of professionalism she was trying to build. Worse, she was afraid Vegeta would think she was completely desperate for a man, so much so that she would throw herself at him. Again.

"I suppose the desire for a partner becomes more pressing as people get older," Bulma said neutrally. "As you mentioned, there are children to consider. Or maybe people are just lonely, and get tired of feeling that way."

"So you were lonely?" Vegeta asked, focused on her.

She stared into his eyes, caught for a moment in his intensity. He saw right through her supposedly generic explanations to the very core of her feelings—loneliness. With a few words he'd stripped away the protective layers she'd created.

"I believe we've already had a discussion about the importance of professionalism," she said to Vegeta. "I'd appreciate it if the questioning took on a less personal tone."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, confused. "I'm being one hundred percent professional here."

She saw that he was telling the truth. He was focused on the investigation right now, completely detached from her. Oh, God. Is it possible to be any more humiliated and still survive? Struggling for her dignity, she said, "I just mean that I'm beginning to feel like a bug under a microscope. You guys need to focus on the killer's motivations, not mine."

"That's what we're trying to do," Vegeta pointed out.

"Don't tell me you can extrapolate from my motivations to his," she said. "He's a man, and God knows I'll never understand what makes men tick."

"Regardless of your inability to understand the male of the species," Vegeta shot back, "there might be a common thread between your thought processes and the killer's that can help us in developing his profile."

"Bullshit. I'm not out there stabbing people."

"You don't need a knife. That sharp tongue of yours is enough to—"

"In the interest of world peace," Goku cut in, "I'm going to declare this match a draw. Vegeta, why don't we take what we've gotten from Bulma and put it together with additional insights from Juu. Who better than the owner of Camelot to explain why our killer might join a dating service?"

Bulma sat back and wished he'd had that brilliant in sight earlier, before she'd made a complete fool out of herself in front of Vegeta. Again.

000

North City

Late Wednesday afternoon

Safely hidden behind the darkened glass of a café window, the man watched Bulma leave the building, get into a cab, and drive off. With her police escort right behind. Satisfied he knew his prey's destination, he turned his attention to the three people who remained standing at the curb, talking. One of them was the blonde woman he'd seen with Bulma at the place she was now staying. The two others he instantly pegged as cops. He didn't know the one with black hair, but he assumed he was working on the case. The cop with darker hair had driven Bulma to the brunette's apartment building a couple of days ago, the afternoon he'd sent his surprise. He watched the blonde woman walk down the street, and then enter a convenience store. The two men got into a tan sedan with city license plates. There would be no tracing them through the Motor Vehicle Division. He wanted a name for these cops, and for the other woman. He didn't like not knowing who all the players were.

He also needed to figure out what they'd been doing all day at the office building. It wasn't anything obvious. He knew the neighborhood because his father's company had offices two doors down. He searched his memory for any unusual business in the building he'd been watching but came up blank. He'd have to keep an eye on the situation, and get even closer to Bulma. He wasn't worried about being caught. He was smarter than they were and had been proving it for years. He was setting up to prove it all over again with Bulma, his beautiful prey.

000

North City

Friday morning

It's about time," Captain. Broly said when Vegeta and Goku showed up at his office.

"Sit down and give me an update."

Vegeta reached into the folder he carried and handed over a list.

"We have a file covering approximately two hundred male clients of the dating service. These names are being run through the computers right now for prior offenses, known aliases, and so forth."

"How long will that take?" the captain asked.

"At least two weeks. We've monopolized the computer techs, but they still can't run more than a dozen a day between them, if we want to be really thorough."

"Shit, we don't have time for this," Broly muttered. Goku nodded.

"That's why we've decided to go through the two hundred candidates with our witness and see if we can't fine-tune the list. At least then we could come up with some prioritization for the background checks."

"Does she remember any more about the night of the murder?"

"Not as far as I know," Goku said. "Even when I took her over the basic self-defense moves yesterday, which had to be pretty scary considering she was recently attacked, nothing came back to her. But she's confident she'll be able to help us narrow the field."

Michaels said nothing as he skimmed the column of names. "Detective Ouji?"

"Son has finished a preliminary psych profile," Vegeta said, using the name most of the department associated with his cousin. "It's a good start, but we both feel there are gaps. We've also been putting together a plan for the dating sting, based on the possibility that the killer is actually a member. We need to proceed very cautiously if we're going to draw this guy out of hiding with such an obvious operation. Of course, that's assuming that we're not wasting our time altogether with this idea."

Captain Broly heard the veiled criticism. "I realize you're still not comfortable with the plan, Ouji, but dragging your feet won't help. The chief is tired of dodging media bullets about the murder."

"He's weathered worse storms before," Vegeta said. "Yeah, but that was before Launch Lambert started doing nightly updates on the news."

Vegeta's eyes narrowed. The woman was an ambitious menace who had lied, cheated, and screwed her way to minor fame in the N.C. journalism world.

"She's sniffing around here after every press briefing," the captain said. "She gets someone to leak her information and we'll all be in deep shit."

Goku muttered something about size six scum-sucking parasites.

Vegeta leaned forward in his chair. "All right, we'll pick up the pace. But I want a full background cheek on anyone Bulma Briefs gets into a car with."

"Fine," the captain said. "Even though Son took the precaution of giving her a short course in self-defense, if anything went wrong with one of her dates, and he had a rap sheet we'd overlooked, the press would crucify us."

"A bad date wouldn't do much for Ms. Briefs either." Goku started talking fast, before Vegeta got in more trouble. "It would be a big help if we could get some time with an FBI profiler. We have to plug the holes in our psych analysis of the killer. It could help Ms. Briefs and we look for behavioral traits or red flags."

Captain Broly pulled on his lower lip as he thought about the request. "Talk to the department shrink. He's been able to give us some insights before. If we don't get anywhere with our own staff, then we'll consider bringing in the FBI."

"Sir, I think we should have a better idea of what kind of personality we're looking for before we start letting our witness spend the evening with strange men," Vegeta said, trying to be diplomatic in his response. "I'm very uncomfortable not taking every precaution in a case where we're using a civilian as bait."

"So noted. But do you have any idea what the press would do if they caught wind of the fact we were consulting with an FBI criminalist? It's too early to bring in the Feds." Captain Broly stood up to indicate that the meeting was over. "Talk to the department shrink first, see what he has to say."

Vegeta was halfway down the corridor before he trusted himself to say a word to his partner. "Broly doesn't give a shit about her. We might as well send her out with a big red target painted on her."

"He's a politician. He's looking at the big picture."

"Fuck the big picture."

"That's why he's the politician, not you. And not me," Goku said.

"You're a better diplomat than I am."

"So is a rabid grizzly." Goku looked at his partner's tight face and knew trouble was coming. "Ease up. Bulma has us to watch over her, and the captain knows it. We won't let anything happen to her."

"Yeah? Are we going to stay over at her place, follow her to the store, and stand outside the bathroom while she showers?" Vegeta demanded, knowing how easy it would be for a determined person to get to Bulma.

"If that's what it takes."

"If I'm living in her back pocket, how the hell am I supposed to focus on the investigation?"

"Good question," Goku said. "You've got two hours to find an answer."

"What?"

"We're meeting Bulma and Juu at Camelot before lunch."

000

North City

Friday morning

Bulma looked impatiently out the window of the cab. '4...The Friday morning traffic was heavy, as people had taken ears and taxis due to the steady rain that fell. She checked her watch again—late. She should have taken the metro and walked from the 40th Circle station to Camelot. It certainly would have been faster. But she hadn't been ready to face the memories of what had happened the last time she'd taken that exact same route.

Bulma jolted when the cabbie turned around and asked for the fare. She realized that they'd arrived while she'd been daydreaming. She paid the driver and hurried upstairs.

Vegeta and Goku were already at work with Juu when Bulma rushed into the office.

"Sorry I'm late, one of my accounts went nuclear and I had to stop by the office for an emergency meeting. You find anything on my first five choices?"

"Where's Chichi? I thought for sure she'd want to be involved in the action," Goku said.

"She had a court appearance this morning or she'd be here. And believe me, she was pissed I wouldn't push this meeting until later in the afternoon. She's been a bit concerned about me recently," Bulma added, rolling her eyes at the understatement.

"Family has that prerogative," Goku said, eyeing his partner.

"Can we get on with it?" Vegeta asked, straightening the stack of papers in front of him. He didn't look at Bulma.

Juu said quickly, "Our security firm rechecked their data on the five men Bulma chose. Nothing of interest showed up."

"We're still running the names through the law enforcement computers," Vegeta said.

"The first two came back clean this morning, so we can go ahead and set something up with them."

"I'll contact them today and see if we can arrange a dinner meeting with each of them this weekend," Juu said. "I'm sure there won't be any problems, especially once they see Bulma's picture," she added, smiling across the desk. No doubt, Vegeta thought sourly. The two losers will be slobbering at the thought of going out with someone like Bulma. Then they'll try to slobber all over her.

"We'll arrange for her dates to do the pickup and drop-off at Camelot," Juu continued.

"They'll take a taxi to the restaurant, which is a pretty standard security measure."

"What about after the date?" Bulma asked.

"Our couples usually come back here. The presence of our uniformed security guard generally acts as a deterrent to, ah, questionable behavior at the end of the evening."

"Sounds good," said Goku. "Once Bulma gets in a taxi with the guy, either Vegeta or I will take up a position right behind. The other one will go ahead and be in place at the restaurant."

Vegeta flipped to the next page of his notes. "We've arranged to use Tres Chic on Key Street as our location. The management has agreed to reserve certain tables so we can keep an eye on Bulma, and we've set up some of our surveillance equipment there. The facility has a restaurant, bar, and small dance floor, so there really shouldn't be a need to go anywhere else in a first date situation." Vegeta pinned Bulma with a look. "If he does suggest another place, you're going to develop a sudden headache and give us the signal to end the evening."

"Unless, of course, I want to go with him." She gave Vegeta a brittle smile.

"Not on the department's nickel. You want to get cozy with someone, you'll have to wait until the investigation is over," Vegeta said, hoping his voice was calm and professional.

"Otherwise, the only male you're alone with had better be wearing a badge." Goku gave his cousin a sideways glance.

Bulma didn't push it. She didn't see much possibility of wanting to be alone with any of the dates she had selected for their potential to be a serial killer. She'd just wanted to yank Vegeta's chain. Something about his cool, professional attitude brought out the, devil in her.

"Let's review the five candidates Bulma picked out of the catalogue," Goku said. He stood up and spread the photos and brief descriptions across the desk where everyone could see them. "Okay, we've got Taylor North, stockbroker, and Luis Cardinale, technical support supervisor. These two have been fully screened," he said, tapping one picture and then the other.

"What about the other three?" Bulma asked.

"We're still waiting to hear back on Billy Green, congressional staffer. Also on Dr. Leonard Petrov, podiatrist, and Randy Klein, ad sales executive," Vegeta said. "Any particular reason why you picked out these five?"

Bulma shook her head. "I was flipping through the pictures and paused on these ones. I just blew by the others."

"Maybe we have something here," Goku said thoughtfully.

Vegeta stared at his partner. "We have nothing!"

"Look at their physical descriptions," Goku said. "All of them are at least six feet tall. They have dark hair, medium complexion, and all but one has light-colored eyes."

"You think it's a hint about the killer's physical characteristics? Maybe a subconscious reaction?" Bulma asked hopefully.

"Either that or you just happen to like tall guys with dark hair and light eyes," Vegeta said absently, studying the photos again. Then he realized what he'd said and made a big deal out of writing something in his notebook.

Sure her cheeks were flaming, Bulma looked at the pictures. Thankfully, none of the bachelors she'd chosen had more than a superficial resemblance to Vegeta.

"When will you finish the background checks on the other three?" she asked.

"Sometime tomorrow," Vegeta said, grateful for the change in subject.

"Well, you'd better get moving. I'm going on a dating marathon. Five dates in five nights. I tried to think of a way to do more than one a night, but I was afraid it would end like a French farce with men hiding in the closet and under the bed." Goku laughed, but not Vegeta.

"I think of it as the New and Improved Dating Game." She smiled with true humor for the first time that day. "It's so nice of the taxpayers to foot the bill."

"I don't want to rain on your parade, but this is serious business," Goku said.

"What my partner means is that your life could be at risk on any one of these dates," Vegeta cut in.

"Welcome to dating in the modern world."

"I'm serious."

She widened her eyes and drawled to both men, "Y' all sure about the danger? It never occurred to silly ol' me."

"This may be a joke to you," Vegeta began.

Goku kicked him under the table. "You're going to be wearing a microphone so we can track your conversation," Goku said quickly. "You'll be in visual contact with at least one of us at all times in the restaurant. Even when you're in the car with your date we'll be no more than fifty feet behind."

Bulma winced. This is supposed to make me feel better? Kami, Vegeta and his bad attitude are going to be following me like my own, private thundercloud.

"Wonderful," Bulma grumbled. "You guys going to hand me toilet paper under the stall as well?"

"It won't be quite that bad," Goku said. "But if you sneeze, several cops will be saying 'Gesundheit.' "

She laughed ruefully."Well, I wanted to be involved in the investigation, so try not to complain about the downstream effects." Such as having to live within reach of the one man she was determined not to reach for.

North City

Friday night

"So tonight's the big date, huh?" Chichi asked. She was watching Bulma get ready in Juu's small guest bathroom.

"I'd hardly call it a date. The police are going to be listening to every word we say. It'll be more like an evening of 'Voyeur TV' or something?' She winced as she reached up to fix her hair. "That tape bites."

"What tape?"

"The stuff plastered over me to hold the microphone in place."

Chichi studied her friend. "Doesn't show."

"It better not. I'd have a hard time explaining about the mike and the earphones Goku and Vegeta are wearing and the machinery recording everything we say."

"Hey, if you let the stockbroker get into your dress, he won't be thinking about anything but your boobs."

"Ha, ha." Bulma carefully blotted her lipstick. "I'm not looking for anything like that right now."

"What are you talking about? You joined a dating service not two weeks ago, plunking down Kami knows how much money to be set up with dates like this one."

"That was then. This is now. I'm not looking for Mr. Right."

"Why, because you've already found him?" Chichi said. "And don't look at me like that. Somehow I think you were cooking more than gumbo that night I walked into the kitchen."

Bulma blushed and pointed at her hidden microphone, even though she wasn't in transmission range. "I told you that I'm not about to get involved with anyone when my life is in chaos."

"We can't always pick the time and place, sweetie." Bulma rolled her eyes and touched up the dark liner underneath one of them. Chichi sighed. "Keep an open mind on your dates. You could have something in common with one of them."

"Ever the optimist." Bulma dabbed on perfume.

"Listen, you don't need to find the love of your life in the next few weeks. Just be open to finding someone who's good company and who shares some of your interests. What's to prevent you from having fun?"

"Oh, I don't know. A serial killer, perhaps?" Or maybe a certain police officer who would be watching her every step of the way. And listening. Chichi's brown eyes darkened with worry.

"Hey, it was just a joke." Bulma touched Chichi's arm, then reached out to adjust a lock of her friend's upswept hair. "You look all dressed up yourself. Headed out?"

"Ah, yes. Some coworkers and I are going to get together for drinks and dinner. In fact, I should leave soon."

"Where are you guys going?" Bulma asked.

"We haven't decided yet. Probably some place in Evergreen," Chichi said vaguely.

"Have fun. I'm off to Camelot to meet my Prince, or catch a frog. Something like that," Bulma said with a wry smile. A horn blew outside, telling her that the taxi had arrived.

"Wish me luck."

000

North City

Friday night

Vegeta had won the coin toss, meaning he would follow Bulma and her date to the restaurant. Goku was there already, staked out at a table with an excellent view of the area where Bulma would be sitting. Sitting behind the wheel of his beige sedan, Vegeta watched Bulma leave the taxi and listened while she introduced herself to Taylor North, stockbroker. Taylor—what the hell kind of name is that, anyway?

Vegeta ran his eyes over Bulma, taking in every bit of her appearance. Just so he'd be able to keep tabs on her throughout the evening, of course. Her hair was up in a twist, leaving her neck bare. She wore a cocktail-length dress in dark blue, with a matching short-sleeved jacket. Her legs looked long and lean in the strappy heels she was wearing.

Reading body language, Vegeta could tell the guy was very interested. Taylor North did a really thorough once-over of Bulma while they introduced themselves. Vegeta watched as the guy directed her toward the cab, hand lingering on her lower back. Creep. Bulma was thinking pretty much the same thing as the warm hand settled above her butt. Barely above it. Gritting her teeth, she told herself that Taylor was simply being a gentleman. He didn't know—and certainly hadn't guessedthat she hated absolute strangers intruding in her personal space. She got into the taxi and slid all the way to the opposite side. Desperately she tried to remember his biography. Nothing came to her. So she concentrated on making small talk—weather, sports, headlines, anything to find a common ground.

"Looks like it might storm later tonight," she said.

"Uh-huh. Excuse me for a minute. I have to check on something. I wasn't really expecting to be out tonight . . ."

In disbelief, then amusement, she watched while he downloaded e-mail and flicked through it on a PDA. "E-mail, huh?" she asked for Vegeta's benefit.

"Yeah."

She studied Taylor in the dim light. He was handsome enough, with straight features, dark brown hair, and blue eyes. He just didn't do it for her. Besides, he didn't need a date, he needed a data port. She looked at his mouth and tried to find signs of the killer's distinctive smile, the cruel twist that she remembered so well. But Taylor wasn't a smiler. Settling back, she decided she would have her work cut out getting a humorous reaction from him. Two cars behind them, Vegeta was grinning. What a putz. He gets alone with her and the first thing he does is check in with the office. Nothing in Vegeta's opinion changed during the next hour as he watched—and listened—while Bulma tried to interest Taylor in something besides the stock market updates that came in on his PDA. If it hadn't been for the guy's eyes glued to Bulma's breasts every time he looked up, Vegeta would have sworn he didn't have anything but a spreadsheet between his legs.

Locking her jaw against a yawn, Bulma pushed salad around on the plate in front of her and hoped the waiter would bring the main course soon. Maybe then Taylor would be forced to change the subject from the importance, the absolutely vital importance of good tax shelters. Apparently it was so important that it was some kind of crime to smile, much less laugh, about anything else. If there was any humor in Taylor's soul, she hadn't found it. As a sense of humor was one of her top three requirements in a date, she was glad this wasn't a real Camelot match—she would have raised hell and gotten her money back. She wondered if another stiff drink would make Taylor's company more appealing. Unfortunately, she suspected there wasn't enough alcohol in the bar to make an evening of discussing Taylor's stock portfolio and financial planning strategies entertaining. The only real amusement in the date so far was looking at her butter knife and wondering if it was sharp enough to slit his throat. Or her wrists. She realized he'd asked her a question, and she tried to cover her inattention with an inquiring sound.

"I'll tell you why I didn't lose my shirt when the market tanked. Diversification," he said emphatically. "It's the key to any successful portfolio. You don't want to be too heavily invested in any particular sector, though of course you want to focus on the profitable ones."

'God, we're back to the portfolio again. I suppose that's an improvement over tax shelters. At this point she was about one hundred percent certain that Taylor wasn't the killer—unless the other women had died of boredom.'

Bulma looked up and smiled brilliantly when the waiter took her salad plate away and said their entrees were coming out shortly. She let her eyes wander to where Goku was seated alone at a table for two about fifteen feet away from her. She continued to glance around, scanning the bar and getting a jolt as she collided with Vegeta's intense dark gaze. She knew she wasn't supposed to look directly at him, but she could feel his eyes practically burning into her. It was impossible not to glance over at him occasionally. Every time it happened, she grew more tense.

Deliberately pulling her attention from the bar area, she continued to casually look over the rest of the diners. A large party of women was just being seated at a corner table. Bulma smiled when she recognized Chichi with some of her coworkers. Apparently Tres Chic was a popular location for weekend nights out. Bulma hoped her friend was having a better time than she was. When their meals arrived, she made another valiant attempt to pay attention to Taylor. Hopefully, he had finally exhausted the topic of his two-, five-, and ten-year plans for diversified investing and financial security. She forked in a mouthful of tender chicken and decided that the evening wasn't a total loss,

"Tell me about your portfolio," Taylor said. Now he remembers me, when my mouth is full. Bulma swallowed hard.

"I have stock options in the company where I work."

"One company? That's it?" Her date looked horrified at the thought and set aside his fork and knife. "That's foolish. You would be wiped out financially if anything happens to them."

"I also have a modest number of shares I inherited from my father. You know, blue-chip stocks in companies that have survived for generations and will be around when I need them."

"Old-fashioned and outdated. You need to dump those and invest in more progressive companies, ones that will determine the future of their respective industries." He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. "I'd be happy to give you some pointers."

"Actually, the portfolio as a whole is doing well. I'm very comfortable with things as they stand. But thank you for the offer."

Taylor made an understanding sound and smiled. "I know the stock market can seem very intimidating to women. Their urge is to buy conservative stocks they know and understand. Particularly in a volatile market."

Bulma narrowed her eyes. Very intimidating to women my ass. "My portfolio has consistently outperformed the leading funds and the market as a whole. I invested my old car insurance settlement, and in a year was able to buy a house in Royal Gardens. Daddy always told me if it ain't broke, don't fix it," she drawled.

"Yes, well, that's a nice Beaver Cleaver approach to investing, and if you're happy with it--" he began.

"I am," she interrupted, setting her drink down hard.

"Well, that's just so yesterday," he said. He started writing on the back of the linen napkin. "Look, if you just take some of that stock and transfer it into one of these high-yield funds, in five, ten, or twenty years you'll . . ."

Bulma tuned out, because if he kept on patronizing her, she was going to come across the table and commit murder under the interested eyes of two homicide detectives. Death by forced ingestion of PDA and cell phone. She would plead justifiable homicide.

From the amused look on Vegeta's face, he would back her. Hoping to be able to eat her meal in peace, Bulma interrupted, "So tell me, do stockbrokers have 401(k) plans?"

"Usually. Of course, it depends on whether they're working as independents or with a large firm, like I am. The 401(k) is a core element of my ten-year plan for personal financial freedom."

She smiled and made encouraging noises as she ate the excellent dinner. Her date had managed to numb her mind, but her taste buds were doing fine. If he noticed her lack of attention, it didn't bother him. He lectured over the steak going cold on his plate. The only good news was that he didn't talk with his mouth full. As soon as Bulma finished eating, she cut Taylor off in full flight on the difference between a 401(k) and something whose rank and serial number escaped her.

"Sorry, I have to . . ." She gestured toward the rest rooms.

"Huh? Oh. Sure." He looked at his plate like he'd just noticed it. "Guess I should eat something. I get carried away when I talk about my work."

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Laughter came from the direction of the bar.

As she passed Goku's table, she dropped her small cocktail purse in a prearranged signal that she was going to end the evening as soon as she got back from the ladies' room. When Goku handed her the purse, she gave him a polite social smile and walked on.

Goku signaled the waiter for his check. He had to get back to Camelot to be in position before Bulma and her date arrived. Vegeta told himself it was petty to feel so good about what had obviously been a lousy evening for Bulma. Even without the small earpiece he would have known that the date was a dud. Her body language screamed rather be home watching a Discovery Channel special about hyena population growth in Kenya than here!

If this guy was the serial killer, Vegeta would eat Taylor's stock portfolio—assuming Bulma didn't feed it to him before the date was over. One down, four to go. Vegeta's good humor evaporated. The thought of sitting through four more nights of guys ogling Bulma made the mineral water in his glass taste like horse piss. I love my job, he thought grimly, signaling the bartender to prepare his check.

When Taylor and Bulma stood up to leave, Vegeta was ready to follow Bulma and her date back to Camelot's building. Goku would already be in position near the entrance, overseeing the good-night chitchat and waiting to take Bulma home. At this point neither detective planned to jump in the cab after Bulma went inside and strike up a conversation with the date about what deceitful bitches women were—almost always a hot-button topic for men who murdered prostitutes.

No small talk came through the mike as Vegeta followed the taxi to Camelot's building. When the cab stopped at the curb to let out its passengers, Vegeta went on one block, circled around, and parked across the street from Camelot.

Bulma was already out of the taxi and going up the steps to the entrance. Just inside the revolving door, Goku was leaning casually against a wall, seemingly absorbed in a newspaper.

"Thanks, Taylor," she said, stopping outside the building door. She hoped he'd read in her the universal signals of a woman who wasn't interested and wasn't going to be. But somehow, she didn't think so.

"I had a great time, Bulma," he said, standing between her and the door. "Here, let me give you my card. Just in case you're interested in updating your portfolio or . . . anything."

Bulma murmured a response and slipped the card into her evening bag.

Taylor just stood there. "Evening is kind of warm, isn't it? Hope it rains before morning and cools things off a bit."

Oh, God. Now he wants small talk. Bulma sighed. "That would be nice."

Another moment of awkward silence passed.

"Well, I'd best go in and get my things," Bulma said, smiling brightly. "I left my laptop inside." She hadn't, but she didn't want him to offer her a cab ride home.

"Sure. Well, I had a great time." Taylor made no move to get out of the doorway.

Bulma knew that he was trying to get up the courage to kiss her. She stuck her hand out firmly to discourage his big move and said, "Good night."

He took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. Before she could avoid it, he swooped down and landed an openmouthed kiss on her lips. Her head jerked back in shock.

"I'll call you, okay?" Taylor said.

Jesus, talk about not getting it. Bulma slid past him. "Sure. Bye."

"Don Juan had better look out," Goku said without looking up from his newspaper.

"Yeah, Taylor's a real charmer," she replied, moving briskly toward the ladies' room off the lobby. "Give me a minute and we can go home."

"Take your time," Goku said, turning the page of his paper.

The first thing she did after locking the bathroom stall was to unbutton her dress. "Good night, sweet prince," she muttered and jerked off the microphone taped to her chest. She winced at losing several layers of skin in the process, then went to work on the remainder of the equipment taped to her waist. In the car outside, Vegeta watched Taylor North get into a taxi. Then the sound of rustling in his earpiece distracted him, followed by something sarcastic he didn't quite catch. The abrupt silence that followed told him Bulma had removed her microphone. The date was over. He got out of the car and jogged across the street to the building. Goku met him at the top of the steps.

"Somehow, I don't think Taylor North is our smooth operator."

Vegeta leaned against the railing. "Don't think he's the killer, either."

"Agreed. The most we could charge him with is being a boring and self-absorbed asshole."

Vegeta snickered, then straightened as Bulma came through the doors and began to descend the stairs. "Any impressions on the stockbroker?"

"Yeah. He kisses like a fourth-grader," she shot back. Goku laughed out loud.

Vegeta was smarter. He knew that Bulma would turn her temper on him if he so much as smiled.

"Ah, I meant more along the lines of whether you recognized him," Vegeta said. "You know, whether he might be our killer?"

"I didn't feel any kind of reaction to him but terminal boredom. I managed to get a smile out of him. It wasn't like the one I remember from the night of the murder." She sighed and adjusted her purse. Just because the two detectives had witnessed the whole miserable farce of a date was no reason to be mad at them. "Sorry the evening was a bust."

"Part of the investigative process is to eliminate suspects," Vegeta said cheerfully. "Taylor is off our list. No point in even sharing a cab ride with him to talk about how awful women are in an effort to get him riled."

The smile red lined her temper. "I'm glad it was good for someone." She turned and stalked toward an unmarked police car. "Ready when you are, Goku."

"Whew," Vegeta said when Bulma couldn't hear. "Somebody's pissed."

"Yeah. I think I'll kiss her good night. Someone should do it right."

"Fuck me." Vegeta's head whipped around.

Goku grinned. "That wiped the smug look off your face."

Vegeta wasn't laughing. "I'm following you back to Juu's house."

"No need."

"Like hell."

Goku was still laughing when he caught up with Bulma.

000

North City

Saturday

Less than twenty-four hours after her last date, Bulma found herself once again seated at a table for two in Tres Chic, suffering the tortures of the damned. Luis Cardinale, technical support supervisor for a major local software firm, had spent the entire evening so far—from introductions at Camelot to appetizers at the restaurant—talking about his ex-girlfriend.

Bulma took a healthy swallow of her vodka on the rocks and decided that she would rather hear about Roth IRAs and municipal bonds as tax shelters than listen to one more word about how Lydia Cockburn had screwed over poor, innocent Luis. If she hadn't known that Vegeta and Goku would roll off their chairs laughing, she would go to the rest room, climb out the window, and run for it.

"That's how I knew you and I were going to hit it off right away," Luis told her.

"Huh?" Bulma blinked at her date.

"Because you weren't wearing provocative clothing. Lydia always wore strapless tops and tight pants, or teensy little dresses whenever we went out. She wanted other men to look at her, be aroused by her body. She loved how upset that made me."

"I believe I'll have another drink."

"But you still have half of yours left," Luis said.

"Not for long." Bulma picked up her drink and chugged the remainder. She set the glass down and flagged someone over to their table. "Vodka rocks," she said to him.

"You know, Lydia used to drink too much when we went out," Luis began.

Gee, I wonder why. "Make it a double." She smiled brilliantly at the waiter,

"Yes, ma'am."

Bulma bit her tongue and wondered when she'd become ma'am instead of miss. Maybe it was the vodka. It wasn't her normal drink, but this wasn't her normal evening, she'd first ordered an icy margarita, only to have Luis point out sadly that it was Lydia's favorite drink. Bulma had told the waiter to bring something with vodka instead.

"The last time Lydia drank too much in a club, she hit on one of the bouncers like I wasn't even there."

Smart lady. "What a shame. Do you suppose she just forgot?"

Luis blinked. "I didn't like it when she drank."

"Really? Why?" Bulma looked at the butter knife. No help there. It was as dull as it had been last night.

As the waiter set Bulma's new drink down in front of her, she caught Vegeta's warning look from a nearby table. She'd forgotten he and Goku were listening to everything she said, because for this date the police technician had found smaller, lighter equipment. She hardly realized she was wearing anything extra under her little black dress. Meeting Vegeta's gaze directly, she lifted her glass in a subtle mock toast, took a delicate sip, and set the drink back down. She hadn't forgotten why she was on a date with the lousy Luis. Unfortunately she was almost certain he was not the man they were looking for. He'd smiled several times—usually on relating some memory of Lydia—and it looked nothing like the cruel smile Bulma remembered from the night of the murder.

Even so, she was beginning to think her date needed psychological help getting over his ex-girlfriend. His obsessive, possessive personality would probably be of interest to the police. With a mental sigh, Bulma decided to keep the date going on the slim possibility that Luis might fit at least some aspects of the killer's profile.

"So, how long have you been working in tech support?" Bulma asked.

At that same moment, the song playing over the speakers changed to a slow, quiet number. Couples gradually moved from tables to the tiny dance floor set to one side of the restaurant, and began swaying gently to the soft music.

"Lydia and I used to love this song. It was, like, our song," he said, staring forlornly at the dance floor. His eyes shimmered suspiciously.

Bulma briefly pinched the bridge of her nose before looking over to Goku and Vegeta for assistance. She simply couldn't go through a whole evening of the ex-girlfriend blues, especially if Luis started sniveling. Goku studiously avoided her gaze and stayed in his position at the bar. She turned to Vegeta, who seemed to be staring intently at her. After several moments she realized he was looking behind her. She turned her head discreetly but didn't see anything worth his attention.

She did, however, catch sight of a table with three women ogling Vegeta. If he noticed their attention, it didn't show. He just gave the room a casual scan and went back to his mineral water. From the whispers, giggles, and rib pokes, Bulma could tell the women were well into their drinks and working up the courage for a more direct approach to the lone man.

She didn't blame them. Vegeta was a handsome male seated alone in a known "meet market." He was just the type of prize some women would love to take home for the night. Pushing aside the disturbing thought, Bulma looked back at her date.

"We went on a cruise and this song was always playing on the ship, so it kind of became our song, you know?" Luis said. "Those were the good times, before I found out she wanted to see other guys. That's why I now insist on exclusivity when I go out with a woman."

"Umm," Bulma said.

"So you're not, like, seeing anybody else, right?"

She couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. "Excuse me?"

"I told you, I have to have an exclusive relationship when I go out with a woman now. Because of what happened with Lydia. I just want to make sure we're both very clear on that," he said, studying her reaction carefully.

"Luis, we are exactly"---Bulma checked her watch—"sixty-six minutes into our first date. I hardly think this is the time to bring up exclusivity."

"So there is someone else!" Luis jabbed at her with his fork to punctuate his statement.

"I paid to join a dating service. The whole point is to get out and date people. If you can't handle that, let's call it a night."

"No! I'm sorry; I guess I go a little crazy sometimes. Lydia left me with lots of emotional baggage, you know?"

Personally, Bulma was starting to sympathize with Lydia. "Maybe it would be best if we didn't talk about her anymore, hmm?"

"Sure," he said, watching as the waiter set their dinners down. "So, have you ever been married?"

"No."

"Engaged, living together, anything?"

"No"

"I can't believe that. Someone like you must have gone out with lots of guys. How come you never married any of them?"

Excellent question. Bulma finished chewing before answering, choosing her words carefully. "I came close to being engaged once, but things just didn't work out."

"Yeah? Did he cheat on you, too?"

"No, he just had different expectations. We worked together and initially kept quiet about our relationship because he wanted to. I guess that should have been a clue right away," she said, swirling more pasta around on her fork.

"What happened?"

"When things got more serious, he started pressuring me to get a job with another company. He wanted to be more open about us, even assumed we would get married someday—but because he was a manager at our firm he thought it would look bad for him to be involved with a coworker. He said it might affect his climb up the corporate ladder, and he expected me to make the big change in careers to avoid that. I disagreed. Things started to fall apart after that."

"I hear you. It's sort of strange when it all unravels, isn't it? I couldn't believe things were over with Lydia for months."

"It wasn't that way for me. Now that I think about it, I really didn't have that much invested in the relationship except time." She'd been more embarrassed than anything else, because her private life had become fodder for office gossip.

Glancing over toward Vegeta's table, she caught him looking intently at her. Flustered, she glanced away and again saw the table of women giggling over Vegeta. One of the women beckoned the waiter over, whispered in his ear, and sent him off to the bar. Within a few moments, he appeared at Vegeta's table with a draft beer on his tray.

When the waiter was sent away with the beer untouched, Bulma breathed a small sigh of relief.

"What's going on?" Luis asked her, looking around to see what she had been watching.

"Oh, nothing much. The table of women over there sent a drink to some guy, but he sent it back."

"That's how I met Lydia." He stared into the bottom of his glass as he swirled the ice around. "She sent me a Kamikaze at a club. We got drunk and danced all night, and then I went home with her and ... well."

And you were surprised that things didn't work out when your relationship was based on Kamikazes and sex with a stranger? Bulma resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I hate Kamikazes," she said flatly. "They lead straight to bad choices."

At the bar, Goku snickered over his soft drink. He felt sorry for Bulma, but he'd just about sprained a rib trying not to laugh out loud. As a date, the evening was a disaster, personally and professionally. Luis Cardinale seemed to be a mild-mannered guy hung up on his apparently hot ex-girlfriend, but Goku didn't think he was a serial killer. Still, they'd keep an eye on him to make sure he didn't have any more dangerous personality quirks. Confident that Bulma would be safe for the evening, Goku turned his attention to a table in the corner behind her. About an hour ago, it had been empty, with a little reserved card sitting on its surface. Now Juu and Chichi sat consuming an enormous tray of appetizers and a large bottle of mineral water. They had come through the kitchen to be seated without drawing attention, but he'd picked up on their presence right away, as had Vegeta. Both women had carefully avoided making eye contact with the detectives.

It was time to let them both know they'd been busted-Goku lifted a hand to signal a waiter. Several minutes later, the waiter brought a nice bottle of cabernet over to the women, followed by a busboy bearing two. Enormous chocolate mousse cheesecake desserts. When Chichi looked inquiringly at the waiter, he turned and pointed out Goku at the bar, glass raised in their direction. Chichi made a face, gestured to the waiter that it was okay, and watched warily as Goku approached.

"I'll take care of pouring the wine," Goku said to the waiter, giving him a tip.

"How's it going?" Goku asked, pulling up a chair and popping a spring roll into his mouth. Grabbing the two glasses, he poured wine to the rim in both of them.

"I can't drink that much," Chichi protested. "We're kind of working, you know?"

"No, you're not. It's a good thing I like you two, or I'd haul you in for interfering with a police investigation." Goku set the wine down in front of them and smiled. "We were just worried about Bulma," Juu said.

"She's being watched at all times. She's in a crowded public place," Goku pointed out.

"You don't know her like I do," Chichi said. "I can read what she's thinking, or tell when she's feeling uncomfortable or threatened."

"So can I," he replied, tapping his earpiece.

"We just wanted to help." Juu looked uncomfortable for a moment, then took a sip of the wine. She eyed the luscious chocolate dessert that had been placed in front of her and reached for a fork.

"We, my ass. You," Goku said, pointing at Chichi. "You're the instigator here. Don't try to argue, just chink your wine and eat your dessert."

"What's up with all this stuff anyway?" Chichi asked, irritated at being ordered around, but not terribly surprised.

"The wine says you don't need to worry about keeping a clear head. The dessert says your evening is over and it's time to go home. Soon." Goku stood up and headed back to the bar.

"Cocky bastard," Chichi muttered as she sipped from the brimming wineglass.

"Yes, but he's got excellent taste. Try the chocolate." Juu took another bite and all but purred.

Across the room, Vegeta watched the exchange and realized Goku had gotten rid of their amateur sleuths for the evening. Warily eyeing the table of increasingly rowdy women who had sent several drinks over to him, Vegeta wondered if they would be so easily dismissed. Luckily, he could tell by the stiff way Bulma smiled and the subtle shifting of her body that she was no more than two minutes away from flushing this date.

He could also tell when she was uncomfortable, like when she caught him looking at her. If someone were watching her closely, the whole dating sting would be over. Bulma just wasn't used to hiding her feelings. She was too open and honest.

That was one of the reasons he was finding it so difficult to work with her. When she looked at him, he could see the conflicting emotions going through her. Above all, he could see the attraction she still felt. And since he was finding it damn near impossible to ignore his own feelings, he was always on edge, certain that they were constantly on the brink of another disastrous encounter. Vegeta's earpiece suddenly echoed with Bulma's gusty sigh. He heard Luis relating another Lydia story, this time about a trip to Hawaii he had paid for. Apparently his ex-girlfriend had spent half the nights in someone else's hotel room, so now Luis only went Dutch on shared vacations and dates.

Bulma reached into her purse, dropped three twenties on the table, and said, "Excuse me." As she headed for the rest room, she said quietly, "Fun's over."

Vegeta flagged down the waiter to settle his bill. This time he would be the one waiting at Camelot when Bulma and loser Luis came back. Then Goku would find a way to get in the cab and strike up a conversation with Luis about life in general and women in particular. It wasn't likely that the man was dangerous, but no one was betting Bulma's life on it.

0000

* * *

**A/N**: I know, I know long time no see. A lot has happened to me in these past months and a lot more will be happening. But not to worry I am back and will finish this story soon, not too soon but soon. I had a bit of a blank moment and then when I finally had enough to start writing again, I decided to write several chapters at a time. So, its up to you all. The next chapter is finished and ready to be posted the thing is I need to hear from all of you. If you like it tell me, if you dont then I'll stop it here.

Also I've been working on several new stories and would love to hear from you all. They will be set up in my web page and want to know which to continue and which to drop. I'll let you all know when I'll set the up.

Thank you all for review the last chapter and that have read this fic. You all deserve special thanks.

Kirusuchinu

geta-chan

Bulma Breif

bulmas-angel

filsama101

Megami

MoonPryncess

Childe of the Night

Iluvevilyamis

Niebezpiczny Ksiezyc

Tina

RainbowKissed

heiress2thethrone

LtVipersKitten

TreetopScout

P.S. Its that time again and you know what to do. **REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW.**

_Laters,_

Lenk (xoxoxoxo)


	16. Chapter 16

**000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000DO NOT OWN0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

Chapter 16

North City

Saturday night

Bulma stepped out into the muggy night air and turned to say good night to Luis. Before she could say anything else, Goku trotted up, grabbed the open door, and asked, "Mind if I share the ride?" He didn't wait for an answer, just got in as though he hadn't noticed Luis crying quietly in the corner. He'd finally been overwhelmed by the ghost of Lydia. Bulma was relieved that he'd waited until she was getting out of the cab to start the maudlin tears.

"Bye, Luis," Bulma said, closing the door behind Goku. "Good luck getting over Lydia."

She felt like wishing Goku luck, too, but was afraid she'd laugh out loud at the thought of what he'd have to go through during his ride. It only seemed fair that someone should suffer along with her. She waved after the cab as it pulled away from the curb, then turned to face Vegeta. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his jeans watching her. She could tell by the angelic look on his face that he was dying to make some kind of nasty comment about her date.

"Not one word," she said. "Where are you parked? I'm not waiting for Goku to take me home, because he could be hours. Somehow I don't think Luis has gone through all of his Lydia stories yet."

Vegeta snickered. "Even if he has, Goku will just get to hear the good ones again."

Bulma laughed and got into the front of Vegeta's truck. She eased her aching feet out of the tiny sandals she'd worn and leaned against the seat.

"Thank Kami I won't be seeing him again." She tilted her head to look at Vegeta as she drove. "I'm surprised you didn't bring one of your friends with you."

"Huh?" Vegeta said, distracted by the smell of Bulma's perfume.

"You know, the women who sent you drinks all evening."

"Oh, them." He shrugged. "They were just having a night out, sucking up too much tequila and egging each other on. I don't take it personally."

Bulma stared. He actually meant it. "How do you take it?"

"They were just goofing around. I was the only single guy in the dining area."

"Goku was there, and he didn't get hit on."

"Yeah, but he was over at the bar. Besides, he was watching Chichi and Juu most of the evening. The other women could probably tell he was otherwise engaged."

Bulma just shook her head. Unbelievable. He didn't have a clue as to how attractive he was. "Whatever. Where do we meet tomorrow night?"

"Juu's office. You have a date with the congressional staffer tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah. Can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to it."

"You knew the job was dangerous when you took it," Vegeta reminded her, grinning.

"I didn't think I'd be having dinner with the ghosts of girlfriends past. Luis needs an exorcist, not a dating service."

Vegeta laughed as he pulled up to the curb at Juu's house. Smiling slightly, Bulma watched him. Somehow, she couldn't see him in Luis's position—more involved emotionally than the other party in the relationship. She didn't see Vegeta Ouji mooning over anyone. However, she might find herself in those shoes in the near future if she wasn't able to get a handle on her thoughts and stop comparing all her dates to Vegeta. Of course, it was kind of hard to stop comparing when he was no more than twenty feet away from her throughout the night, staring right at her. Vegeta walked her to the door. She didn't invite him in because there was no official reason to prolong the contact. Chichi was inside, and the house had already been checked by one of the surveillance officers.

"Lock the door behind you," Vegeta said, and left without a backwards glance.

Watching Vegeta's taillights disappear through the window, Bulma decided that she'd better grow thicker skin if she was going to continue with this dating game under the cool, watchful dark eyes of Detective Ouji. With her thoughts focused on Vegeta, Bulma didn't notice the nondescript sedan that hesitated slightly, then drove past Juu's house.

000

North City

Saturday night

The man braked at a dimly lit stop sign and ran his hands around the steering wheel, thinking about Bulma. She was going out to dinner with different men, but she had a police escort during and after each date. His lips twisted up at the corners. She must have really been rattled by his gift. He'd enjoyed watching her, but would have to leave his sweet prey to her cops and boyfriends for a few days. Just when he'd decided he couldn't wait any longer for Bulma, fate had presented him with an outlet for his needs. All he had to do was a little groundwork before he could feel that lovely blade plunging into his next convenient victim. Then, refreshed and patient again, he'd return to stalking his beautiful prey.

"Good night, Bulma. Sleep well. I want you strong when we meet again."

000

North City

Sunday evening

Bulma walked into Juu's office Sunday evening and was greeted by a long whistle from Goku. Smiling at him, she turned around, showing off the itsy-bitsy red dress she was wearing for her third date. Vegeta lost all cognitive function as he looked at the crimson sheath that hugged Bulma's soft curves, leaving her arms and shoulders completely bare. The heart-stopping sway of her rounded hips was accentuated by the black heels she was wearing, which matched the tiny leather evening bag she carried. When her back was to him, he saw that the dress hugged her butt so lovingly he actually clenched his hands at the memory of how it had felt to hold that same flesh.

"Wow," Goku said.

Bulma grinned. "Chi picked it out for me today. She said that if this dress didn't have my date drooling on the floor and confessing his sins to the police, nothing would."

"She was right," Vegeta muttered.

"Your hair looks great, too," Juu said. "I've never seen it down before." She admired the cloud of curls that Chichi and Bulma had spent the better part of an hour taming into a loose style around her bare shoulders.

"Thanks. Chi's idea again."

_Chi is going to be the death of me_. Vegeta took what felt like his first breath since Bulma had walked in the room. When all heads turned toward him, he realized he must have sounded like someone surfacing after a deep dive. Bulma tilted her head inquiringly at him.

"You look nice," Vegeta said, his voice sounding rusty.

She felt a little tug of annoyance at the lukewarm compliment. Then she remembered her determination to ignore him this evening and focus on charming her date. She'd been looking forward to this all day, and she wouldn't let Vegeta ruin things before the night had even started.

"You're too kind." With an irritated shimmy, she settled her dress in place.

All the blood in Vegeta's head went to his crotch. He forced himself to look away from her breasts, which were as lovingly cupped by the dress as her butt was. Then he risked another look at her. _Kami_.

"Where in hell are the microphone and transmitter?"

"The microphone is here," Bulma said, running her index finger lightly over the shadow between her breasts. "And the transmitter is--"

"Forget I asked," Vegeta cut in, heading for the door. "I'll get your damned table at the restaurant."

000

North City

Sunday night

Billy Green, a congressional staffer from Dubuque, Iowa, was the most entertaining dinner companion Bulma had had in years. He was smart, funny, well-read, and a genuinely nice human being. He shared several of her interests, including cardio kickboxing and abstract modem art.

_It's too bad he's gay. And it's really too bad that he hasn't figured it out yet._

Bulma took a sip of the excellent Chardonnay her date had recommended. She focused on him again as he finished telling about his disastrous first day on the Hill, when he'd lost his congressman's speech and then accidentally deleted the database of constituents who had made donations during a fund-raising dinner.

"Then I was in a meeting and asked someone I didn't recognize where the bathroom was. Turns out he was a very senior member of the Senate, and here I was telling him I had to pee like a racehorse."

Bulma laughed and wished she had better luck with men. Unlike some women she'd known, she simply wasn't attracted to gay men. She only wished she could meet some equally entertaining and charming male who liked women and wanted to have sex with them.

_Oh, well. Win some, lose some, never had a chance with the rest. At least he's keeping my mind off the case and work, which is more than I can say of my last two dates._

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vegeta turn around on his barstool after ordering another mineral water. Now there was someone who generated great chemistry with her. Unfortunately, he was as unavailable to her as Billy, though for dramatically different reasons. Life really was a bitch sometimes. Still, she was having her best evening out in months. It would be stupid to ruin things by whining over what she couldn't have.

From the corner of her eye she caught a movement at one of the tables. Goku met her eyes and raised an eyebrow at her, asking for a signal of some kind regarding her impressions of Billy. She studied her date for a moment, reviewing his broad, open features, blue eyes, and thick black hair. He grinned at her, and she knew this was not the cold-blooded killer they were looking for. He's too young.

Bulma frowned and wondered where that thought had come from. Before she could track that idea down, she sensed Vegeta staring at her, waiting for a signal of some kind. The natives are getting restless. She excused herself to go to the rest room. Once inside, she spoke to the microphone discreetly clipped to her bra.

"He's not the one. I don't know why, but I think he's too young. And his smile is open and real, nothing like the image I've had in my head all this time." Ignoring a woman who gave her a strange look for talking to her boobs, Bulma stopped to touch up her lipstick before she returned to her date.

"I ordered the appetizer platter for us both. It should be out in a minute," Billy said. "Do you want to dance while we're waiting?"

Bulma looked out at the dance floor, where a dozen couples were moving to a fast-paced song with a pounding beat. Since this was the first night she didn't have a headache, she grinned at Billy. "Let's go."

He took her hand, and they squeezed themselves onto the tiny floor. She laughed when Billy swung her into a spin, then proceeded to jump around her in an energetic, if slightly graceless, circle. Ten minutes later, flushed and breathless, Bulma and her date returned to the table. She'd completely lost herself in the driving rhythm of the music and the throng of other dancers. In fact she'd forgotten why she was there. While Billy ordered her a frozen margarita, she glanced idly around.

As her eyes moved past Vegeta, she wondered why he shot her such an irritated look. When he turned his head and made no further contact, she mentally shrugged and glanced to the next table. Goku had moved. Now he was sitting next to someone at a table in the middle of the room. When the waiter moved, Bulma smiled as she recognized Chichi. Chi just wasn't the sort to sit back and let others do the work of watching out for her friend. Goku didn't look happy at having to do damage control, or whatever the police called it when they dealt with people who didn't salute smartly and say "Yes, sir."

"This is a great place," Billy said. "I've heard of it, but never been. Do you come here a lot?"

"I've been here a few times. It was recommended to me by a friend," she said, refusing to let her eyes slide toward Vegeta again.

"I feel like I've been to every restaurant in the city since joining Camelot. This has to be one of the best places yet."

"You've been out on lots of dates through Camelot?" she asked, conscious of the need to gather information on Billy, if only to eliminate him from the list of suspects.

"Dozens. I just can't seem to find the right girl. Maybe.. I don't know, maybe I'm trying too hard. Sometimes I'm not sure I even want to be dating at all." He picked at a piece of bruschetta from the appetizer tray.

"Why do it then? If you're not interested in a relationship, why force things with a dating service?" Bulma asked carefully. She doubted that Billy understood the real reason behind his inability to "_find the right girl_."

"My mother is pressuring me to settle down and get married. I'm from a rural community outside of South County, where guys get married out of high school and then go into whatever blue-collar occupation their father is in. They certainly don't go to college, or move to the nation's capital to live in roach-infested apartments and work for practically nothing."

Bulma smiled. "I'm a long way from the Peek District of West City, myself. All my friends from school, except my best friend Chichi, have been married for years and have at least one child."

"Tell me about it. I'm the oldest of three, and yet both my brothers have wives and kids already."

"There's nothing wrong with choosing to focus on your career. The wife and family will come later, if that's what you really want."

"That's what I keep telling my mom, but she's got this idea of the perfect life for me. I just don't think it's the same as my idea." Suddenly he looked older, uneasy. "Hey, have you seen the new modem art exhibit at the Milano Gallery?"

Bulma didn't blink at the change of subject. "The one with live tropical fish built into each sculpture? No, but I've heard of it. I wondered what was eventually going to happen to the fish, since they're sealed into the artwork."

"They're going to die in there. It's Fitz's commentary on the futility of modem life. He's saying that no matter how beautiful the prison, we are all trapped and dying by degrees. I think he's also highlighting the death of beauty in postmodern art. You know, that there seem to be pockets of color and splendor, but in reality they're fleeting and unsustainable."

"That's fascinating. Not many people understand and appreciate modem art. I can never find anyone to go to new exhibits with me. I tell my friend Chichi that she has to look beyond the shock value to see the statement beneath, but she doesn't buy it."

"I'd be happy to go with you to any exhibit you want. We don't have anything like it in South City, so I'm trying to soak up as much as I can."

"I'm trying to picture what people in West County would say to a series of paintings featuring a blue dog," Bulma said.

"My granny Ruth would probably say, 'What, did the artist run out of brown paint?' " Billy imitated a crotchety old woman's voice, making Bulma laugh out loud.

Several tables away, Vegeta heard the delighted laugh. Gritting his teeth, he looked toward her table, where she and her date were leaning forward and talking animatedly about modern art. Vegeta hated the stuff. If he wanted to see a painting of a soup can or a tennis shoe sculpture, he'd make one himself at home and save the ten-dollar admission ticket. Checking his watch, he saw that more than an hour and a half had passed since Bulma's arrival at Tres Chic. Surely she'd figured out by now that Billy Green was gay and clueless. Being gay absolutely didn't fit the profile of their suspect. Unless Bulma was attracted to sexually conflicted South County farm boys, Vegeta couldn't see any point in continuing with the evening's operation. Vegeta's mood got worse as the evening went on. Bulma and Billy made multiple trips to the dance floor to jump around with the other diners, though he noticed they returned to their seats during the slow numbers. After their meals arrived, the two swapped plates around like old friends. Vegeta was forced to listen when they engaged in a long and lively discussion of the selections on the dessert tray. He practically ripped his earpiece out in annoyance as Billy described the blueberry crème brill & as "orgasmic."

Vegeta looked at Goku, who was talking to Chichi while eating pasta and keeping Bulma in sight at all times. When Bulma and Billy headed out to the dance floor again, Vegeta decided the hell with it and ordered a bunch of appetizers to eat. Maybe he should join Goku and the little dark-haired mama tiger. Not that he minded Chichi being there as long as she stayed out of the way. She provided some cover for Goku as he sat observing the other diners, and she didn't cost the operation nearly as much as a police officer would have. Sometime before eleven Bulma gave the signal that she and her date were headed back to Camelot. Since Vegeta was alone, he would follow Bulma's taxi, which left Goku and Chichi to go ahead and get into position. Vegeta easily kept the cab in sight as it drove through the empty streets. He listened to the casual conversation Bulma and Billy were having, this time about Billy's longtime desire to learn how to scuba dive. To Vegeta's disbelief, Bulma let Billy dismiss the cab once they had reached Camelot's building. Instead of leaving, Billy led her over to take a seat on the low wall surrounding a fountain next to the lobby entrance. They continued their conversation about scuba diving, with Bulma relating some of the experiences she'd had in the Caribbean. When the discussion turned to great vacation destinations and the geopolitical considerations behind selecting a safe yet exotic location, Vegeta slowly banged his head on the steering wheel of his sedan. After midnight, Bulma began to yawn, even though she wasn't the least bit bored. Billy took the hint and said he had to be up early in the morning, but asked if he could see Bulma again.

"I'd be happy to see you again—as a friend," she said.

"But I thought we were getting along great." Billy watched his shoes as he spoke, but in all he seemed to be more relieved than upset at her choice.

"We are. I had a great time tonight." Bulma felt ten years older than her date as she tipped his chin up to look in his eyes. "But I don't get the feeling that you're attracted to me as a woman, just a friend. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I want to be attracted to you," he said desperately. "My mother would really like you."

Bulma winced. Talk about damned by faint praise. "That's very sweet of you to say. But maybe you should worry about pleasing yourself in your choice of dates, not your mother?"

"What do you mean?"

"You'll never be happy unless you live your own life. I think you know it. I think that's why you defied your family and local traditions to make a new start in North City. Don't chicken out now, Billy. You're doing the right thing."

He stared at her for a long moment. "You're right. I just. I'm not ready to break all those ties yet." He smiled sadly. "I guess say good night, then. Are you sure I can't drop you somewhere?"

"No, thanks. My stuff is inside, and there's a security guard at the desk. I'll be fine."

"Okay. I'll see if I can get tickets to the Fitz exhibit, and maybe we can go together. As friends."

"I'd like that. Good night, Billy." She gave him a warm hug, friend to friend. He returned it the same way. She stood at the entrance to the Camelot building and waved as he got into a cab and drove away.

_Poor kid. He's so messed up inside he doesn't know which way to go. 1 hope he finds a good man who understands where he is and helps him get somewhere happier_

"What the hell was that all about?" Bulma started at the angry voice behind her. Turning, she saw Vegeta standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

"It's called a date," she said. "Dinner, dancing, conversation. It's something the civilized members of society engage in on a fairly regular basis."

"Date, my ass. The guy's queer. Can't you see that?"

"Thank you for your Neanderthal summary of Billy's confused sexuality. It's because of people like you he's spent his whole life in the closet."

"Oh, bullshit. I work with gay officers all the time, and some of them are damn good cops." He rubbed his neck uncomfortably. "I just didn't know if you knew Billy was—what's the latest psychobabble—sexually conflicted?"

"I'm not an idiot. Of course I could see he was gay."

"Okay. Some women can't, that's all."

"I'm not one of them. My gay-dar is highly functional."

Some of the tension seeped out of Vegeta's shoulders. "Then why didn't you end the date when you figured it out?"

"That would have meant turning the cab around on the way to the restaurant. I thought you wanted me to get more of an impression of him as a potential suspect."

"Is that why you were bumping and grinding on the dance floor all night with him?"

"No, I danced with him because I liked the music and was having fun. You know, you should come out of your cave more often. Then maybe you'd understand the concept of showing a lady a good time."

He slanted her an icy look. "We both know that I'm more than capable of showing you a good time."

Bulma sucked in a breath. It was the first direct reference either one had made to the night they'd almost made love. His words literally had her reeling. Then she remembered the microphone stashed in her bra, recording every word of their conversation and relaying it to Goku and anyone else who cared to listen to the surveillance tape. Pointing to her chest, she silently tried to communicate the situation to Vegeta. Vegeta stared at her in complete disbelief. He reached a tentative hand out to her breast, only to have her smack it away. She pressed her own hand over her chest in an attempt to muffle her words.

"The microphone is still on," she said between clenched teeth.

"Fuck."

Vegeta had taken off his earpiece once the cab had pulled away from the curb. But he'd be willing to bet that Goku still had his receiver activated, which meant that he'd gotten an earful. Bulma and Vegeta shared a pained look. She rubbed her head like she suddenly had a headache.

"Turn it off," Vegeta said quietly. "I'll erase the end of the tape before we turn it in to Evidence."

Bulma disconnected the microphone, reaching deep between her breasts in order to disengage the recording device. "I'm sorry. I can't get used to living under a spotlight. I have to forget about the microphone or I'd go crazy. Are you sure you won't get in trouble erasing some tape?"

"The information isn't relevant to the investigation," was all he said. He'd have some explaining to do with Goku, but it wouldn't be a problem.

"I'll go get my things," she said. "Chichi can give me a ride home."

"We'll follow you."

Without another word Bulma turned and went up the stairs to the lobby. She passed

Goku, who told her Chichi was waiting inside. She knew by looking at his face that he'd heard every word. Goku continued past her down the stairs and crossed to Vegeta.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Goku asked bluntly.

Vegeta tucked his hands into his front pockets. "I'm not doing anything. Things got a little out of hand one night. It won't happen again."

_I wouldn't bet the farm on that one,_ Goku thought. "Chichi's worried about her."

"Why?"

"She said Bulma is a very private person and it's not easy for her to be under constant surveillance. I agree. She sure as hell doesn't need the additional stress of fighting with you."

"I know." Vegeta sighed. "I try, but sometimes I can't stop the words in time. Watching her being pawed by losers. . ." He shrugged.

Goku studied his cousin. "You're the most disciplined person I've ever known. Work with her instead of bickering. Hell, if you're nice to her, at least you might get it out of your system."

"And then what? I get removed from the case for sleeping with a witness? Or worse, I get her hurt—even killed—because my mind isn't on the investigation?" Vegeta shook his head. "Won't happen. Besides, neither one of us is looking for that kind of entanglement right now. It's under control."

"The kind of red-hot chemistry you two have isn't known to be convenient and timely and tame," Goku cut in. "That's why it's called an 'entanglement.' "

"I said it was under control. Look, can we drop this?" Vegeta asked, gesturing to the women coming down the stairs.'

Goku shrugged and got into the car, preparing to escort Bulma and Chichi home for the night. Vegeta didn't speak again.

000

North City

Tuesday morning

Bulma sat next to Juu in the offices of Camelot. Vegeta and Goku would soon be there, but Bulma was too annoyed to wait for them. Besides, their damn earphones had told them everything she was going to tell Juu.

"Date number four was an absolute, total, and complete disaster," Bulma said.

"Come on, surely last night wasn't that bad."

"It was worse." She began to describe it but stopped when Juu's assistant showed Vegeta and Goku into the office and shut the door behind them.

"Hey, Juu, Bulma. How's it going?" Vegeta asked cheerfully. Approaching the desk, he set down a high-heeled shoe sealed in a zipper bag in front of Bulma. "You can have your shoe back. We aren't going to be pressing any charges, so we won't need it as evidence."

Bulma practically snarled at him as she snatched her shoe off the desk. Vegeta pressed his lips together to suppress the laughter dancing in his eyes. Mouth open, Juu looked at both Goku and Vegeta.

"Shoes? Charges? What's going on?"

"Nothing, at least as far as the investigation is concerned. You might want to take Dr. Petrov out of your catalogue, though," Goku said carefully, rubbing a hand around his mouth to hide the smile there. He took a seat between Bulma and Vegeta and carefully avoided eye contact with his partner as they both struggled not to laugh out loud.

"Why?" Juu asked.

Both men snickered.

"Because Leonard Petrov is a pervert," Bulma said flatly.

"Now, Bulma," Vegeta said, praying he wouldn't lose it. "We investigated him thoroughly and found nothing to support any evidence of a crime. He just has, urn, unusual tastes."

"Very unusual." Goku chuckled, but he straightened in his chair when Bulma turned angry black eyes on him.

"What on earth happened last night?" Juu asked.

"Leonard attacked me at the end of the date," Bulma said, "and these examples of North City's Finest almost wet their pants laughing."

"He didn't actually attack you," Vegeta pointed out, chuckling in spite of himself.

"That creep licked my foot!" Bulma brandished the shoe as evidence.

Both men doubled over and howled. They laughed until they cried and still kept on laughing. Bulma took the shoe and whacked Goku with it, because he was the only one she could reach.

"It isn't funny," she said.

"Oh, Kami, yes it is! If you'd only—seen the expression—on your face," Vegeta managed between gasping laughs.

"I've had it with you two clowns," Bulma said. "You're supposed to be protecting me, not laughing yourself into a coma at my expense."

"I consider it a fringe benefit," Goku said, wiping his eyes.

She gave him another smack with her shoe.

Safely out of reach, Vegeta kept chuckling. As she glared at him, she realized she'd rarely seen this side of Vegeta before. Goku was usually the mischievous one, but right now Vegeta's dancing dark eyes and infectious laughter were delightful, taking years off his age. Normally her own sense of humor would have been charmed by the entire situation, and she'd be laughing as hard as both men put together. But she wasn't feeling like herself. She'd spent the last four nights living like a bug under a microscope, wired for sound and having every moment studied and catalogued for the police files. Death-row inmates had more privacy than she did. It was fraying her nerves and temper,

"Now I'm dying of curiosity," Juu said carefully. "What happened on your date?"

Bulma took a deep breath. "I should have known it would get weird when the guy introduced himself. He was short, blonde, and had a very slight build. I'm sure I outweighed him by at least . . . by quite a bit."

"Wait a minute." Juu pulled up Petrov's file on her computer. "That doesn't match his photo or description."

"He said he'd had someone else come in for the initial consultation and photo. He claimed he'd joined another service using his own picture and had very few replies, so he asked a more attractive friend to stand in for him."

Juu made a tsking sound and typed something in the database.

"I was pretty sure right away that he wasn't the killer," Bulma said. "Way too short and skinny and blonde. In fact, I thought he was completely harmless."

"And you said so into the microphone. We felt confident you were safe," Goku pointed out.

"You're cops. You're supposed to know a pervert when you see one." She stuffed her shoe into her purse so that she wouldn't be tempted to hit him with it again. "Anyway, we had a quick dinner. I cut the evening short because it was a dead end."

"Dead end from an investigative standpoint or a romantic one?" Juu asked with a grin.

"Both," Vegeta and Bulma answered together.

She turned her head around to look at him. "How do you know I wasn't attracted to him?"

"Come on," Vegeta said. "I've been watching your every move for the last four evenings. I can read body language well enough to know when there's no chemistry between two people." Not to mention the fact that he'd engaged in enough verbal and physical foreplay with her to recognize when she was interested in a man. She hadn't been even remotely attracted to the harmless podiatrist, which had allowed Vegeta to relax enough to see the humor in the entire situation.

"Great," she said. "Just one more piece of my private life ripped out into the open for public commentary and entertainment."

"That's not what I meant," Vegeta said, no longer laughing.

"That's what they all say." She wanted desperately to rub away the unhappy ache building behind her forehead, but she figured he would probably read and understand that gesture as well.

"So you cut the evening short and? . ." Juu asked.

"We took a cab back here and he started to get kind of pushy," Bulma said. "He wanted to go somewhere for a drink or drop me at my place or whatever. I wasn't worried, but I made sure I said good-bye on the steps outside the building."

"She stood on the step above his to emphasize his lack of height," Vegeta said. "Nice move."

"Kami, am I that easy to read?" Bulma asked.

"Don't answer," Goku said quickly to Vegeta. "It's one of those trick female questions."

"You're killing me," Juu said. "Finish it,"

"I said good night and pulled my keys out," Bulma said, "but he jostled me and I dropped them on the stairs."

"Allow me to point out," Goku said, "I was in position less than fifteen feet away and Vegeta was across the street in his car."

"Yeah, yeah, I was never in any danger. We got that part, Detective," Bulma said.

"Anyway, Leonard bends down to pick up my keys, but then stays there at my feet, staring at my sandals. He says I shouldn't wear high heels, they cause all kinds of problems, blah, blah."

"Sounds like good medical advice to me. He is a podiatrist, after all," Juu said.

"Yeah, well then he starts to undo the straps on my right shoe, saying how they cut off the circulation when they're tight. He looks at my feet and says how beautiful they are, how I should take better care of them and not subject them to such stress."

Vegeta began to snicker again. "You should have seen Bulma's face. Total deer-caught-in-headlights look."

"So he starts rubbing at the marks the strap left on my foot," Bulma said, ignoring Vegeta. "He tells me he has just the trick to make things feel better. Then he licks my foot from toes to ankle."

"Oh Kami," Juu said. "What did you do?"

"She executed one of the more interesting gymnastic moves I've ever seen," Goku said. "She went straight up in the air and backwards at the same time. I took the guy down about a second later. When I looked up, the revolving door was going around and Bulma was gone."

"And there's poor Leonard getting cuffed, her shoe still clutched in his hand, wondering what the hell is going on," Vegeta said, grinning.

"Poor Leonard? How about poor Bulma? Do you have any idea how revolting that was for me?" she said angrily. "And the whole thing gets recorded and logged into the evidence file for this case. It's humiliating."

"I think you're overreacting," Vegeta said. "Leonard insisted he was very sorry if he offended you and wanted to offer you a free foot exam to show he's got no hard feelings."

This time Juu joined in the explosion of laughter that echoed around the room. Bulma waited until it was quiet before turning to Juu.

"Et to Brute?" she asked.

"You have to admit it's kind of funny."

"Really? This pervert is running around dating clients from your company and it's funny?"

"That reminds me," Juu said, turning to type a notation on the computer.

"Are you removing him from your database?" Bulma asked.

"No, we'll just see if we can find a foot fetishist to hook him up with," Juu said.

Everyone but Bulma laughed.

Juu sighed as she looked at Bulma's angry face. "Of course we'll remove him."

"I'm starting to wonder about this service of yours. Look at my last two dates—gay and weird, in that order. Washouts, along with the other dates I've had so far." Bulma felt mean for being hard on Billy, but facts were facts.

"I know the last few days have been difficult," Vegeta said, "but remember what we're trying to achieve here."

Juu added, "You're not the average customer looking for a dream date."

"That's how I started out," Bulma said stubbornly.

"But now we're trying to help the police catch a killer. How can you say the dates were a disaster if through them we've managed to eliminate some suspects?" Juu asked gently.

"Because I wanted to find . ." . . someone like Vegeta. Bulma forced herself not to look at him. "Oh, forget it. I just feel all this tension building, like something is going to happen and I can't do anything about it. I feel like the butt of some huge cosmic joke right now. Usually I'd be laughing, too, but I can't."

"Sorry," Goku said. "We didn't help with the Leonard thing."

"I thought for sure you'd see how funny it was," Vegeta said.

"Try my sense of humor after you've caught the killer," Bulma said, turning on him. "Have you found anything yet?"

"We've run several dozen Camelot clients through police background checks," Goku said.

"I assume you didn't find anything interesting, since these individuals have all been extensively screened by our own private security firm," Juu said, tapping her pen on the desk. She really hoped her sister's screening methodology would stand up to checks run by the police.

Vegeta and Goku looked at each other.

"Our checks are a lot more thorough than those done by a private firm, although we missed the photo switch by the podiatrist," Vegeta said. "In the future, we'll check driver's license photos against Camelot's records."

"We have access to national criminal databases," Goku added, "and we can see when there's evidence of things like sealed records or juvenile convictions. We're also less likely to take things at face value than a corporate security firm, which works on a very high volume of clients."

"What are you trying to say?" Juu asked.

"Among the approximately four dozen clients we've screened to date, we've found some pretty serious misdemeanor crimes. Not surprising, since I'm sure your private firm only did a check for felony offenses," Vegeta said.

"That's right. Maura decided to only flag felonies because they were getting so many hits for neighborhood noise complaints and violations of doggie leash laws!"

"I understand the policy. But a lot of felonies get pleaded down to misdemeanors, so they're a red flag for us," Vegeta said.

Juu braced herself. "Go on."

"We found three clients who are legally married, although we can't confirm the de facto status of those unions."

"Did the files show that?"

"No. They just said single, no mention of divorce or separation." Clenching her jaw, Juu picked up her pen again. "I'll need their names. Withholding that type of information is grounds for cancellation of the membership."

"And we've found evidence of at least four clients with sealed juvenile records. I'm assuming everyone is required to divulge any and all criminal activity in their past, and so we flagged these names as well," Vegeta said.

"What kind of juvenile records?"

"It could be anything from malicious mischief to drug charges to murder," Vegeta said. "When juvenile records are sealed, nobody has access to them. But we'll speak to the arresting officers and see if they remember the cases. Until then, we'll have to assume the worst."

"Why?" Bulma said.

"Many serial killers become active in their teens," Vegeta said without looking away from Juu. "Things like interest in the occult, misdemeanor sex crimes, animal cruelty—these can all be precursors of true sociopath behavior in adulthood."

"If the crimes are that serious, why can't you access the files now?" Bulma asked.

"Our legal system believes anything that happens before the age of eighteen shouldn't be held against someone once he or she is an adult," Goku said. "It takes a court order to unseal juvenile records, and we don't have enough evidence for that."

"Great. So if the police can't even get this information, how is Juu's private security firm supposed to do a thorough background check?" Bulma demanded.

"Amen." Juu threw down her pen in disgust.

"You do the best you can," Vegeta said. "There's nothing wrong with Camelot's system. You have the same limitations that your competitors do."

"What I have is a personal responsibility to my clients, people like Bulma," Juu shot back. "They believe we offer them a safe alternative to the singles scene. What a farce."

"Aren't you being a little hard on yourself?" Vegeta asked.

"A week ago," Juu said, "when you came to me and said Camelot might have a killer hidden among the clientele, I thought you were crazy, that there was no way a murderer could get through the screening process. I can't say that now. This could be the end of my sister's company, her dream."

"No one is going to close this place down for having some inherent risks in the business. Hell, look at airlines," Goku said.

"I won't need to wait for anyone to shut Camelot down," Juu said grimly, thinking about what she had already been through. "If I find we've been hiding a killer in our databases close the place myself. I can't live with murder" She looked at the detectives. "Are you one hundred percent certain you can protect Bulma?"

"Nothing is one hundred percent certain," Bulma said.

Neither detective disagreed.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

A/N: Well that's Chapter number 16. Up to know I just started fixing Chapter 17, so please be patient. Okay, for all of you who take the time to read and review…..THANK YOU SO MUCH. You are the reason I keep updating this story.

My Special THANKS Go To:

bulmas-angel

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Megami

Kirusuchinu

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MikariStar

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Bulma Breif

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P.S. Please REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!

Lenk (xoxoxoxo)


	17. Chapter 17

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000DON'T OWN000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Chapter 17

North City

Wednesday morning

"Thanks for coming in on such short notice," Vegeta said, holding the door open for Bulma.

"No big deal." She glanced at him, wondering if his heart was beating as fast as hers. _Probably not_. "Since I'm burning vacation time at work, and all my accounts have been divided up among the other managers, my time is pretty much my own. What's up?"

"We were lucky to get some time with the department's psychiatrist. It's not quite like working with an FBI criminal profiler, but hopefully we can come up with a sketch of our killer that has a stronger scientific base than the one Goku and I threw together."

"What does the shrink want from me?"

"He'll ask about your memories on the night of the murder, and any impressions you've formed since then. Maybe he can help jog your memory. Ever been hypnotized?"

"No, and I'm not about to start."

"Just a joke. Hypnosis isn't that reliable anyway, and it's not admissible in court." Vegeta steered her down another hallway. "We'll meet with him back here."

"We?"

"You and me."

"I'd rather talk to the doctor alone," Bulma said.

Vegeta stopped outside a door that said Conference. "Why?"

"Because that's the way I feel."

"But you know I'll be reading the notes from your session."

She winced and reached for the door._ Great. _

"Read whatever you want, but one person poking into my brain at a time is all I can handle." She shut the door, closing him out. Soon he reappeared at the window overlooking the room, crossed his arms, and leaned against the wall. She yanked out a chair facing the window, sat, and stared right through him.

A middle-aged, balding man stepped into the conference room through a side door. "Hi, Ms. Briefs. I'm Dr. Morton."

"Actually, it's Bulma."

"Right, sorry." After offering her a soft handshake, he pulled out the chair directly opposite her.

Vegeta hovered over his head like an impatient ghost.

"You're working on a profile of the killer with the police?" Bulma asked, looking away from the glass.

"Yes. This is actually the first time I've worked with Detectives Ouji and Son, but the department has me on retainer to provide a number of services related to psychiatry and counseling. This is actually the fun part of my job."

The hinges on the swivel chair squeaked noisily as Dr. Morton leaned way back. The position caused his powder blue golf shirt to strain across the spare tire around his middle.

"I've reviewed the known case files on the victims and other crime scenes, and feel I've gotten all I can from them," he said. "I'd like to start with what you remember from the night of the murder."

"I don't really remember anything. Didn't Vegeta tell you?" Bulma asked, glancing at the detective through the glass.

"Vegeta? Oh, Detective Vegeta Ouji. No, he didn't say anything. Why don't you tell me?"

"I fell down a flight of steps and hit my head on the night of the murder, apparently running away from the killer. People at the scene reported that I talked about seeing a murder, and I mentioned a school. The police checked out the area nearby and found the victim."

"And you can't remember any part of the night?"

"No. I don't remember anything after leaving work that Friday afternoon, even though I'm told I went to Camelot Dating Services and spent hours there. I know I'd planned to walk to 40th Circle after my appointment. That path would have taken me directly through the school's property. Vegeta and Goku have pretty much pieced together everything since then, but I can't confirm any of it."

"Interesting." The hinges squeaked as Dr. Morton adjusted his position. "Your diagnosis at the hospital was a concussion, but they released you after a few days, even though you hadn't recovered your memory."

"I wasn't seriously injured. My doctor said the memories might come back slowly over time, or maybe not at all. So far, I haven't remembered anything except for some

impressions and images, mostly in dreams or nightmares."

Dr. Morton leaned forward and picked up her file from the desk, scanning through the first page. "Hmmm. It says you have a memory of seeing a photograph that reminded you of the killer." He continued to read, occasionally repeating phrases from the document.

Bulma waited impatiently while he went through her entire case file. If one of her assistants had come to a meeting so ill prepared, she would have scorched the person for wasting her time. When Dr. Morton leaned back again with a thunderous squeak and studied her as if a spaceship had just dropped her off, she wondered what was up with him. Her eyes strayed once again to the hallway. Vegeta was still there, still watching.

"If you can't remember what the killer looks like, how did you decide which clients to choose in the dating service catalogue?" Dr. Morton asked.

"We're hoping that subconsciously I picked out men who resemble him in some way, or that I may even have selected the killer himself."

"Subconsciously. I see." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Did your doctor ever mention the term hysterical amnesia to you?"

"No. He used the term traumatic. He said that many victims of head injuries have no memory of the time leading up to the trauma."

"Yes, but we often see this in other types of injuries as well. There's some debate on whether there are physical or psychological factors involved. However, I'm of the opinion that since amnesia is found in patients with vastly different injuries, the roots of the condition are probably psychological. It's certainly not surprising that the brain would want to edit portions of a shocking event," he said, looking at her in an understanding way.

"Interesting. But I'm of the opinion I took a blow to the head that interrupted a few synaptic functions. I've been through horrible events before and never had any trouble remembering things in painful detail."

"Have you ever witnessed a murder before?" The question was accompanied by an eyebrow lift.

"Of course not. I didn't get knocked on the head, either. In spite of the trauma, I'm doing everything I can to help the police. I've been working with Vegeta and Goku for over two weeks on this, to the exclusion of everything else in my life." She glanced out the window. He was still there. "I want to remember that night. I've tried thinking about it until my head feels like it's going to explode. I've tried to remember my dreams. But there's nothing there."

"You keep looking out the window. Why?"

"Vegeta is pacing out there, waiting for us to finish. He said he'd be eager to look over the notes from our discussion." She looked pointedly at the blank yellow notebook in front of the doctor.

"You seem to be on friendly terms with Detective Ouji."

Bulma stopped fidgeting and focused on the doctor. She'd have to tread very carefully here. "He and Goku have been very kind to me. They have an excellent bedside manner with victims."

She thought about how Vegeta had been in the hospital before tension had developed between them, and told herself that she wasn't really lying. The doctor flipped through a couple more pages in the file.

"I see you've been working very closely with Detective Ouji. He's detailed multiple meetings, interviews, and strategy sessions with you."

"Yes," Bulma said, even though it wasn't a question. "He and Goku have—"

"It would be easy, in a situation like this, for someone to become emotionally attached," Dr. Morton continued, ignoring her words. "Especially someone who is vulnerable and needs help."

"I suppose someone who only looked on the surface might see things that way," Bulma said neutrally.

"But you don't?"

"No. I see people working together to stop a killer. It's no different from one of my office projects, except the stakes are much higher."

"It's perfectly understandable that you would develop feelings for Detective Ouji. His job places him in the role of protector, and in this case he's protecting you. That can lead to powerful emotional bonding, especially for someone like you."

"Someone like me?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"You've been through a traumatic event and are probably feeling a little fragile. Plus . . ." Dr. Morton pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"Go on. I assure you I won't break into pieces."

"You seem to have a need to be rescued. Call it a 'White Knight' fantasy."

She stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"It all fits quite neatly. Detective Ouji—who you've repeatedly looked at through the window since I arrived--is responsible for guarding you. Your participation in the investigation reinforces the role of protector, because he watches over you every day during the operation. Furthermore, you need him to solve the case so that you can be freed from the role of victim, or in other words, rescued. It's pretty classic."

"So is bullshit," Bulma said, trying to shock him.

"Look at what you did the night of the murder. You joined a dating service. Essentially, what that says to me is you're looking for a man to solve your problems. Even the name of the dating service, Camelot, underscores the White Knight fantasy. Why do you think you chose that company over the many others out there? You were attracted to the symbolism."

"The name had nothing to do with it. My friend recently took over the management there. My company had a contract with Camelot last year, so I knew the previous owner. It was only logical that I would go back to them."

"I'm sure you can rationalize it that way. But subtle clues like this only underscore my initial opinion."

She thought carefully before responding. Losing her temper would not improve her position with the doctor. "But you're not here to give an opinion about me. You're here to develop a profile of the killer."

"Which you're unwilling to assist me in doing," Dr. Morton replied. "Yet you're still working quite happily with the team of investigators, including Detective Ouji."

"I'm sure you have an opinion about that, as well."

He nodded. "I do. As long as you keep working with the investigation, you get to be rescued. It's no wonder you haven't had any success 'recovering' your memory. Once you do, your role as damsel in distress will be over."

"Fascinating opinion, but I'm afraid it only underscores the fact that you don't understand me, or this investigation, at all."

The doctor looked her over. "Defensive posture, dismissive language, flushed cheeks. I'd say I scored a direct hit."

Bulma had had enough, but she would be professional if it killed her. An emotional outburst at this point would only make Dr. Morton more smug. She stood up and straightened her skirt. Pretending he was a difficult, important client, she smiled warmly and held out her hand.

"Well, then I think we're done," she said. "Thank you so much for your time today, Dr. Morton. I'm sure you're a very busy man, and I appreciate being able to get some of your insights."

He stared at her switch from defensive victim to polished diplomat. "I don't think we're finished here?'

"It's gracious of you to offer more time, but I'm afraid I have another appointment. If there's anything further you need from me, my number is in the case file." Bulma rounded the table, opened the door, and closed it softly behind her. Leaning back against it, she saw that Goku had joined Vegeta in the hallway. They both turned inquiring looks in her direction.

"How did it go?" Vegeta asked.

"You'd have better luck consulting chicken entrails than relying on Dr. Psychobabble in there?" She brushed past the detectives and walked quickly down the hall.

"Bulma?" Vegeta called after her. "What happened?"

"Ask the shrink. If he's still capable, I'm sure he's panting to talk to you. He'll throw in an analysis of your relationship with your mother at no extra charge."

Bulma went through the doorway without looking back. Goku glanced over at Vegeta.

"What the hell . . . ?" Vegeta headed into the conference room to find out.

000

North City

Wednesday morning

Goku and Vegeta left the conference room and Dr. Morton behind, feeling like they'd been to a bad movie. The two detectives gave each other sideways glances, not knowing whether to laugh or bang their heads on the wall.

"What a putz," Goku muttered.

"On his best day, he'd have to stretch to be a putz." Vegeta headed toward their desks. "I don't think we can use anything he told us."

"How did he describe Bulma again?"

"I'm not sure. My mind had kind of numbed by then." Vegeta skimmed the single page of quickly scribbled notes Dr. Morton had pressed on them during the brief meeting. "Here it is. 'Ms. Briefs is an emotionally fragile witness whose potential contribution to the case is questionable given her tenuous mental state.' "

"Shit," Goku said in disgust.

"And don't forget about the part where she wants to be the center of attention in an ongoing police psychodrama," Vegeta said. "He can't decide whether her amnesia is hysterical or feigned."

"If he can't see Bulma, who's sitting right in front of him, how can he give us a useable psych profile on the killer?"

"He can't. I'm going to stick this crap under the 'related documents' tab at the end of the file." Vegeta went over to his desk and sat down with a tired sigh. "Christ, I'm surprised she didn't go for his throat."

"Nah, she's too refined." Goku tossed back the last of a cup of coffee that had been poured hours ago, grimacing at the bitter taste.

"Bullshit. If she'd thought it would suit her needs, she'd have ripped Morton's throat out in a heartbeat," Vegeta said, for once having a deeper insight into someone than his cousin. "She must have had some other reason for walking out of there and leaving him intact."

"Well it sure wasn't his brains. Anyone who can look at you and Bulma and babble about White Knights and Damsels in Distress deserves to have his jugular ripped out." Vegeta moved uncomfortably. He didn't like thinking that Bulma's attraction to him was less than it seemed. "Since Dr. Morton's a washout, I'm going to talk to Kelley in Vice. Her brother works for the FBI out of Quantico and has had some specialized training in criminal profiling. He even teaches a course. Maybe he can do an informal assessment, just to give us a jump start in weeding through our list of suspects," Vegeta said, standing.

"Good idea. Just don't let the brass hear anything about it. And cousin?"

"Yeah?"

"Morton was wrong about everything else—why would he be right about what makes Bulma hum like a race car whenever you're around?"

Vegeta kept walking because anything he could say would only dig himself into a deeper hole.

000

North City

Wednesday afternoon

"Why would three otherwise sane women pay outrageous prices to sit in a steam room in North City in July?" Bulma asked, sweating.

Chichi wiped her face on a towel.

"It gives us the illusion of being in control of the climate," Juu said.

"Illusion," Bulma muttered. "Great. Just what I need, another shrink."

Dr. Morton's analysis still burned. The thought that her actions and emotions might be interpreted in such an unflattering way was humiliating. She'd thought she was being cooperative, working with the police in order to catch a man who had made a very real threat against her life. _Could it be that she had other reasons? Like the chance to be close to Vegeta? Or worse, was she really waiting to be rescued?_

"What did the police shrink say?" Chichi asked.

"You've been in a terrible mood since you saw him."

Bulma wiped her face. "The Cliffs Notes version is that I'm a fragile personality. I have hysterical amnesia—if I have amnesia at all—but I continue to participate in the investigation because it feeds my need to be rescued. You see, I'm suffering from White Knight syndrome, meaning that I'm waiting for a man to rescue me from all that's wrong with my life."

"What? That is complete crap." Chichi's voice echoed loudly in the steamy room.

"He said that joining a dating service underlines my desire to be rescued?'

"How on earth does joining Camelot indicate a psychological weakness?" Juu demanded.

"According to him, I'm searching for a man to fix my life." Bulma hesitated. "I can't honestly say he's entirely wrong. I was unhappy and lonely, and looked to Camelot to help solve that."

"Joining a dating service doesn't mean you're waiting for someone to rescue you," Juu said, hands on towel-wrapped hips. "It shows that you're willing to go out there after something you want, something that's missing in your life. It's proactive behavior, not save-me passive," Juu said.

"Isn't that the same as wanting a man to solve my problems?"

"No! It means you're looking for a man to share everything that's right in your life," Juu said. "You're a smart, funny, successful, and beautiful woman who has a lot to offer a man."

Chichi looked at Bulma's unhappy face. "You don't really buy into that passive and needy bull, do you?"

"I don't know what to think anymore. Look at me—I'm a wreck. I'm living in a fucking fishbowl and being analyzed by strangers. I'm being driven slowly insane by one man I can't date, and going out every night with a different reject from the gene pool."

"Forget the stupid shrink," Chichi said. "Focus on what's ahead of you."

"More dates? Kill me now."

"You can handle it. Repeat after me," Chichi said. "I am a modem, independent woman who can survive another evening of socializing with a perfect stranger."

Bulma laughed and dutifully repeated the words. But even as she did, she wondered if she could survive another evening of socializing under the watchful eyes of a man who felt like anything but a stranger. Even worse than that was the gut-deep feeling that a deadly stranger was never farther away from her than the darkness at the edge of light.

000

North City

Saturday evening

Bulma sipped her mineral water and decided that even modern, independent women shouldn't have to deal with the obnoxious, self-absorbed ad sales executive sitting across the table from her. Randy Klein, a beefy former college hockey player, liked martinis with pickled onions. He liked them a lot and he liked a lot of them. She looked with barely veiled disgust at the wrinkled onions bobbing on a toothpick in Randy's glass. He was finishing his third drink, and the appetizers had just arrived. She'd already decided that mineral water would be her drink du jour. While she tried to decide if Randy's smile reminded her of anything more lethal. than a used-car salesman, she kept up her end of the conversation. It wasn't hard. Randy was in love with Randy, which made her an unnecessary third wheel. With each martini he'd grown more aggressive and loud, and she'd grown more quiet. He didn't notice. He picked the toothpick out of his glass, winked at her, and suggestively sucked a pickled onion into his mouth. To make sure she didn't miss the point, he stared at her breasts.

Obviously he thought he was going to get lucky tonight. She focused on his mouth, looking for anything that reminded her of the night of the murder. He's the right size.

The thought startled her. Working to hold that thought, she tried to remember more. All she came up with was the fact that her date's mouth wasn't right. Sighing, she decided that while Randy Klein made her uncomfortable, he didn't make her fear for her life. He just had a remarkably coarse way of looking at her. Bulma caught a motion out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see Chichi getting up from the table she shared with Vegeta. When she headed toward the ladies' room, Bulma excused herself and hurried to catch up.

After making sure the small bathroom was empty, Bulma asked, "Did they just give in and deputize you?"

"No. I had my own table, but as soon as Vegeta came in and saw me, he pulled up a chair. I guess they figure I'm good cover or something."

"Well, you can relax. The only thing at risk tonight is my virtue, if there is such a thing in the twenty-first century. Have you seen this guy's moves?"

"Yeah, I can feel the slime all the way over at my table. Vegeta doesn't like the way Randy is acting."

"That makes two of us. I hate martinis, and I hate pickled onions. I can smell them every time he laughs." Bulma made a face in the mirror.

"What do you want me to tell Vegeta?" Chichi asked.

"Save your breath. He's listening to every word we say, aren't you, Detective?" Bulma asked the microphone clipped to her bra.

"I forgot about that," Chichi said. "They won't give me an earpiece."

"You don't need one and everyone else can relax. I've studied this guy's smile. While it's as sleazy as he is, it doesn't look anything like the killer's. Randy's not our suspect, so I'll be ready to go by the time the waiter brings coffee."

"Why not just end things now, at the restaurant?"

"Because I'm hungry and I haven't eaten." She grimaced. "Although if I get a few more whiffs of pickled onions, I'm going to lose my appetite."

"I don't like it," Chichi said. "He's twice your size."

"Honey, he'll be skunk drunk by the time we leave. I've handled much worse, and so have you."

"I still don't like it."

Neither did Bulma, but she was damned if she would run to the cops for help with a situation all single women routinely handled. She sure as hell wasn't some whining damsel looking for excuses to be rescued. By the time, they finished dinner, Randy had downed seven martinis, pickled onions and all. Thank God for taxis, Bulma thought. His speech was fine, but his reflexes weren't.

"Well, it's been great, but I'm working tomorrow," Bulma said. "Time for me to call it a night."

Goku signaled to the bartender to close his tab. Vegeta and Chichi began to get ready to leave, reminding Bulma once again that she had an audience listening to her dinner conversation, and every cheesy line her date was pulling out as well. Vegeta and Goku both looked tense. They were watching Randy like a snake. Bulma rolled her eyes. _Great. Just what she needed—more testosterone_. To prevent any type of confrontation,

she hustled her date out the door. For once there was a cab waiting, and she all but shoved Randy into it.

When the cab stopped in front of Camelot, Bulma said briskly as she slid out, "Keep the cab. Good night."

She was nearly to the top of the stairs when she felt a hand on her arm. For an instant terror swept her—it was too much like her dreams, the ones where she didn't escape and the killer reached out and caught her. After a few frantic seconds she realized it was her intoxicated date, not a serial murderer, who had grabbed her arm. With a shudder, she pulled her self-control into place.

"Wait a sec," Randy said, weaving slightly as he stood on the step next to her. "What kind of a good night is that?"

"The only kind you're going to get."

"C'mon, no need to be coy. We both know why we joined this dating service, so still respect you in the morning." He grabbed her before she could answer. Onion-laced martini fumes made her gag. She pushed, and he held on harder. Then he pawed her breast and slimed her mouth with his tongue.

To hell with this. She drove the spiky point of her heel right through soft Italian leather and into the most tender part of Randy's foot, just as Goku had taught her during their brief lesson in self-defense. Randy yelped and let go. She shoved him hard. Off balance from a combination of surprise and alcohol, he went over like a felled tree, tumbled down the shallow stairs, and landed in a heap at the bottom. Two seconds later Vegeta appeared out of nowhere, flipped Randy over on his face, and jammed a knee in his back. Once he was subdued, Vegeta searched him roughly.

"What the fuck? .. ." Randy asked, dazed.

"Is he all right?" she asked. "I didn't mean to—"

"Get back," Vegeta ordered.

Bulma caught a glimpse of his furious dark eyes and instinctively took a step back. "It's all right. He's not the killer."

"Let me handle this." Vegeta didn't look up from Randy as he spoke. "Get back up the stairs."

"But—"

"Go." This time it was Goku giving orders as he ran up to the scene. He took Range's sports coat and turned it inside out, searching the pockets.

Bulma turned and marched back to the top of the stairs, furious with everyone and everything, and most of all with herself for shaking inside and for being grateful that she wasn't alone. _Dammit, she wasn't a damsel in distress sniveling for a knight. She'd slain the pickled dragon herself._ Arms crossed over her breasts, Bulma watched as Vegeta called for a backup unit to take Randy to the hospital—and then to jail. Once Vegeta had finished his call, he turned and looked at her.

"Are you all right?" he asked roughly.

Unconsciously she rubbed her mouth. _Ugh. Pickled onions_. "Sure. He's hardly the first guy to make a grab at getting lucky on a date."

Vegeta came up the stairs to stand next to her, towering over the extra height her heeled sandals gave her. "Why the hell didn't you wait at the restaurant? You didn't give us time to get into place. You got out of range with the microphone. I couldn't hear what was happening."

"I—I didn't realize you weren't behind me." She lifted her chin and faced his anger. "Contrary to Dr. Freud, I'm not whining for a man to save me. As you can see, I handled Randy just fine."

"It's not your job to handle him. You're supposed to let us do that. If you can't follow simple instructions, you're off the case." Vegeta's voice was like his eyes, coldly furious.

"What—"

"Is that clear?" Vegeta interrupted. "One word, yes or no."

She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but realized he was angry enough to pull her from the investigation.

"Yes."

Vegeta saw that her eyes were clear blue and angry in the building's outdoor lights. "Don't glare at me like that. He may be a businessman now, but he's a former college hockey player who's used to violence and he's a hell of a lot stronger and meaner than you are."

"What the fuck is goin' on?" Randy mumbled from the bottom of the stairs.

Nobody answered. Bulma stared at Vegeta for a full minute without answering while the aftermath of fear, disgust, and adrenaline churned in her stomach. If she didn't leave right now, she was going to lose it, throw herself at him, and confirm every word that smug shrink had said.

"I take it we're through here, Detective?" Without waiting for an answer, Bulma went through the revolving door. She didn't look back.

"Well, shit." Vegeta went back to something that made sense—his job.

"What the fuck is goin' on?" Randy asked the pavement again.

Both cops ignored him. "When will the backup be here?" Vegeta asked Goku.

"It's Saturday night, he's cuffed, and we're overworked. It will be a while. You think he's the killer?"

"My gut says no, but we'll run him again while he's locked up."

"So, ah, what exactly are you going to charge him with?"

Vegeta stared at his cousin. "Attempted assault"

Goku hesitated. "Did Bulma indicate in any way that she was in danger?"

"I saw him grab her and she nailed him with her high heel."

Goku grinned. "I told you she was a fast learner."

"What the fuck is goin' on?" Randy asked. "I didn't do anything. Can't a guy kiss his date good night?"

Vegeta looked at Randy. "Shut up, fucko."

"Could it have been a misunderstanding?" Goku asked. "The guy thinks he's going to score and his date lets him know otherwise?"

"He pawed her," Vegeta said tightly. "He grabbed her and pawed her like she was a ten-dollar whore. Drunken asshole."

Both of them heard the sound of running water transmitted through their earpieces, which were still activated. Then something glass shattered, followed by more sounds, running water, and something else.

"Is she sick?" Goku asked. Maybe Vegeta was right. Maybe they should charge Randy.

"I'll go check. You stay here with the Hockey Puke. And keep a lid on Chichi," Vegeta added, nodding to the small car pulling up across the street.

More liquid sounds came through the earphones as Vegeta ran through the lobby. He hesitated outside the women's rest room. More gurgling sounds sent him inside.

"Bulma? Are you all right?" He came around the corner just as she spat something green into the sink.

She jumped at the sound of his voice and dribbled some mouthwash down her chin in the process of spitting it out "Dammit, this is the ladies' room. And I can assure you you're not a lady," she said, wiping her chin.

"I thought you might be sick or something. I heard these sounds." Vegeta stopped at her furious look.

"You heard sounds?" She reached into her top, ripped the microphone out of the transmitter, tearing the delicate wires, and threw the mangled equipment at him.

Vegeta yelped at the feedback and wrenched his earpiece out with one hand. The other hand snatched the ruined mike out of the air before it hit him in the face. Bulma went back to the sink and started cleaning up the glass from the first bottle of mouthwash, which she'd broken because her hands were shaking. Vegeta watched her, seeing the roiling emotion beneath the surface calm she was desperately trying to maintain.

"What's with the mouthwash?" he finally asked.

"Randy ate pickled onions out of his martinis all night. When he shoved his tongue down my throat, I got to experience them as well. They're vile."

Vegeta felt his anger leap back at the image of Bulma's date assaulting her in that way.

"Goddammit, Bulma. You should have waited for us at the restaurant. Then this never would have happened."

"How do you figure that? It happened so fast I didn't have time to duck, so I took care of it the old-fashioned way."

"What if he hadn't passed out at the bottom of the stairs? What if you'd just pissed him off, and he tried to rape you?"

"Then I would have handled him just like I've handled any other pushy guy I went out with before I met you," Bulma said in a harsh voice. "Just like I'll handle them when you're no longer in my life."

He ground his teeth to keep from protesting at her statement. He didn't like thinking about her not being around every day. In a few short weeks Bulma had made a place for herself in his life, and it wasn't just the investigation. The silence in the bathroom grew heavy. Vegeta knew she was looking for a fight, and with his own adrenaline running high he'd be more than happy to give her one. But fighting wouldn't solve what was going on between them. Worse, it would undermine his self-control. Then he'd be tempted to do something stupid, like holding her and giving her something to taste besides mouthwash and pickled onions.

Shaking off the erotic images, Vegeta folded his arms across his chest and leaned his hip against the counter. "Until the killer is caught, I'm in your life and it's my job to protect you. Get used to it."

"Or you'll take me off the investigation?" she challenged.

"Yes. Any questions?"

"No," she said through her teeth.

"ThenI'll let you freshen up."

After Vegeta closed the door behind him, Bulma looked back toward the mirror and reminded herself she'd asked for this. She felt trapped, frantic, and a little crazy, but she could handle it. She had to.

"Bulma?" It was Chichi's voice. "Honey, are you in there?"

"Hi, Chi," Bulma said with a faint sigh, feeling guilty that all she really wanted was to be left alone.

"Are you all right?" The door opened and Chichi walked in.

"I'm fine. I was definitely more disgusted than hurt."

"I'm glad. Randy's gone to the drunk tank, and the guys are waiting to take you home."

Bulma thought about being alone with Goku or Vegeta and knew she couldn't do it. "Can I borrow your car? You can catch a ride home with the guys."

"Where are you going?"

"I just need to go for a drive to clear my head. I haven't been alone in weeks. I have to—get out."

Chichi hesitated before giving her keys to Bulma. "You be careful, hear? Keep the doors locked and take my cell phone."

Bulma grabbed the phone and keys, then gave Chichi a quick hug. "Thanks."

Chichi watched while Bulma gathered her things from the security guard and headed outside—the back way. Chichi had expected it. She went out and down the front steps in a rush to the detectives.

"I gave Bulma my car keys and cell phone."

"What?" Vegeta asked. "You let her go off alone?"

"Of course, honey. Be careful when you follow her. She's close to ... let's just say she needs some time out of the fishbowl."

Vegeta pulled his own keys out. "It's my fault she's mad. I'll follow her in my truck. You take Chichi home," he said to Goku.

Chichi ducked her head to hide her satisfied smile.

000

At the edge of North City

Saturday night

"It's called a turn signal, moron." Bulma said aloud to the driver who had cut her off and then immediately slowed for an upcoming turn. "You might want to use it before somebody hauls a gun out of the glove compartment and shoots you."

With a jerk of the wheel, she whipped out and around the other car. She'd been on the road for over an hour, weaving in and out of light traffic and enjoying the luxury of driving with no particular destination or deadline. Every time her thoughts strayed to the past few weeks, she shoved them right out of her mind. At the moment she was free, and nothing was going to spoil that. Bulma rolled down the windows to enjoy the breeze. A thunderstorm was building in the distance, giving the night a hushed, tense quality that vibrated through the humid air. The smells and sounds brought back memories of summer nights in West City with a clarity that was almost painful. Bulma stared into the darkness and thought of her parents. She needed them now more than ever, but took comfort in the fact that they were together. Wherever they were. Biting her lip against the bittersweet pain, she watched lightning arc inside a distant cloud and thought how wonderful it would be to stand in a drenching rain and let it wash the last few weeks away.

The idea made her smile faintly and gave her a goal. Calculating the direction of the storm, she figured her best chance to hit the rain was to head toward Peaceable Bay. She knew of several quiet coastal roads that led right to the water. She could park there and enjoy the storm in peace.. _Peace_. The thought of it was like a drug.

She reached down to tune the radio to an oldies station, one locally known for playing torch songs and blues. Humming along to Patsy Cline, she crossed the Peaceable Bay bridge, turned off the main highway, and headed toward the water. After paralleling the coast for several miles, she chose another tiny road made of crushed shells and dirt. She was sure she wouldn't encounter anyone on this little track, because it didn't lead directly to the water. Instead, it ended at a wide turnaround separated from the high tide line by thick brush and scrub trees. No one else was there ahead of her. She let out a long sigh, shut off the engine, and dropped her head back against the headrest. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift. The sound of water and the calls of night creatures came in the open window. So did the sound of an approaching vehicle. Since she was at the end of a one-way road, the other car couldn't miss seeing her.

"Damn it!"

Headlights flared, and the outline of a large pickup pulled in directly behind her. Too late it occurred to her that she was alone on a deserted road on the Peaceable with a large vehicle blocking her only avenue of escape. Fumbling with the key, Bulma turned the car on.. She quickly raised the windows and hit the locks, while mentally calculating whether she would have enough space to get around the truck and not get stuck in the sand. Without taking her eyes off the rearview mirror, she felt around on the passenger seat for the cell phone.

She squinted in the darkness, trying to determine how many people were in the truck. She could-only see the outline of one tall person behind the wheel. The driver's side door of the pickup opened, causing the dome light to come on and creating a silhouette of the seated man behind the wheel.

Vegeta.

"Son of a bitch!" Bulma tossed the phone back onto the passenger seat and cut the engine. She shoved her door open and headed toward the truck. "What the hell are you doing here?" she yelled, marching unsteadily across the sand and shells in her high-heeled sandals.

Vegeta stayed in the truck and watched her approach through the open driver's window.

"Why did you follow me?" Bulma demanded. "You scared the shit out of me until I recognized you."

"And here I was thinking you were too stupid to realize you should be afraid," Vegeta said, stripping out of his weapon harness. Lines of sweat showed everywhere the leather had been.

She stopped short a few feet away from him. "Did you just call me stupid?"

"I'll say," he muttered as he wrapped up the weapon and shoved it under the front seat.

"What else do you call a woman who is under police protection but runs off all by herself and drives late at night to a deserted rural area?"

"I'd call her a woman who wanted to be alone! I still have rights, you know."

"You gave up those rights when you became the target of a serial killer. And when you agreed to take part in the investigation and play by my rules."

"Yeah? Well fuck your rules."

"Tired of playing detective?" Vegeta's voice was level, almost understanding.

"No, I'm tired of having my every move recorded and criticized. I'm tired of living my

life on your microscope slide. You could understand that, if you had feelings. But you don't, do you? You just sit there behind your badge and watch."

Vegeta's jaw tightened. "Don't push that button. You don't want to pick a fight with me right now."

"Why not?" Bulma asked, flinging her hands up in the air. "You're here. I'm here. I'd love to see if you have any normal human emotions under that badge, or if you've succeeded in completely eliminating them in order to do your job."

"That's it."

Bulma took a step backward when Vegeta abruptly got out of the truck.

"What are you doing?" She took another step back as Vegeta began to come toward her.

"I don't want to fight with you, but I'm more than happy to give you everything else you're asking for."

She took another step backward, only to feel the ground give way beneath her heel. He grabbed her upper arms and finished the job of pulling her off balance. With a hungry sound he crushed her against his chest and brought their hips into full contact. Before Bulma could absorb the dual sensations, Vegeta's lips covered hers in a kiss that devoured. Tipping her head back, she let his tongue into her mouth. To her surprise, he began a gentle game of advance and retreat. She made a choked sound, then closed her eyes so she could drown herself in the taste of his desire. This was what she'd been waiting for, and she was going to enjoy every second of it. Vegeta also closed his eyes to better experience the sensation of kissing Bulma after denying himself for days that seemed like years. He wrapped one arm more securely around her, pulling her closer. With his free hand he touched her hair, the side of her neck, and her gently sloping shoulder. Hungry for more, he ran his hand down the side of her breast, pausing to repeat the stroking caress when her breath caught.

With another deep kiss, he let his hand drop to her taut waist, then moved on to the curve of her hips. Repeatedly squeezing and releasing the supple flesh, he felt her body arch into his growing erection and knew that this time he wasn't going to let her go until they were both satisfied. Without breaking the kiss, he released her and quickly unbuttoned his shirt. He jerked it free of his slacks, then caught his breath on a groan when her hands rubbed teasing strokes across his bare stomach and ribs. He tossed his shirt onto the hood of the truck and peeled off her short-sleeved cocktail jacket. In seconds it joined his shirt on the hood, and he was running his hands from her bare wrists to the sensitive skin where shoulder met neck. A gust of salt-tinged air whipped around them. Chills roughened Bulma's skin, though she wasn't cold. The temperature had to be at least eighty, and the humid night shimmered around them with the electricity of the coming storm. Still, she shivered again and pressed herself closer to Vegeta, wanting to crawl inside him and wrap him around her like a down blanket on a cold night.

The feel of her rubbing over him made his breath stop. He ran his hands down her sides to the soft skin of her thighs just beneath her hemline. It was as low as he could reach without breaking the contact of their lips. He let his hands slide around to the backs of her thighs, enjoying the sensation of slick nylon and warm flesh beneath. Pushing under the hem of her dress halfway to his elbows, he wrapped his hands around her bottom and shifted her until he had the dress up around her waist. He practically tore the nylons off her in his haste for skin-on-skin contact. Bunching the dress in one fist to keep it out of the way, he lifted her and wrapped her legs around him. Twining her arms around his neck, Bulma took advantage of being nearly his height. Sliding her fingers through the soft hair at his nape, she leaned forward and ran her tongue teasingly across Vegeta's lips. When his mouth opened, her tongue darted in repeatedly to find the soft flesh inside his lips and cheeks. He tried to deepen the kiss, but she pulled back to sip at his lips and flick them again and again with her tongue.

Two could play at the game of tease and retreat. She figured it was time for him to get a taste of his own medicine. The game lasted until Vegeta traced the sensitive base of her spine with his fingers, then sent his hand below the waistband of her panties and arched his erection against her. When she paused in her teasing to enjoy being caught between his hand in back and the hard thrust of his flesh in front, he captured her mouth in a deep kiss. He arched into her again, feeling her moist heat through the thin fabric that separated them. When they came up for air, both were panting. Bulma's unzipped dress sagged loosely around her breasts. Vegeta felt the first cool raindrops splatter his back. Still holding her wrapped around his waist, he turned around, ducked her head, and laid her out on the truck's oversized bench seat, a treasure he was about to devour. Crouching down in the doorway, he looked into the blue depths of her eyes and gently ran his hands up her bare legs.

"If this isn't what you want, you'd better say so now."

"What?" Bulma was drowning in the erotic sensation of his hands caressing her thighs, slowly drifting closer to the center of her pleasure.

"Is this what you want?" Vegeta repeated, sliding his hands over her belly and up toward her breasts. The loosened material of her dress offered no protection from his wandering fingers, which stroked across nipples that were already hard and aching.

"Talk about stupid," Bulma said. She caught Vegeta's belt buckle and tried to pull him onto the bench seat with her.

"Wait." He slid her hand off the buckle and undid his clothes. "I'm too tall to get undressed in the truck."

Moments later, he was naked. She reached a hand out to him, but he merely kissed her fingers and urged her to sit up so he could remove the rest of her clothing. He unzipped her dress completely and watched the fabric pool around her waist. Her breasts were bare underneath the silky blue material.

"Christ, woman. You're practically naked under this dress."

"Built-in bra," she said.

He rubbed his palms across her nipples while she wiggled the dress down over her hips. The shift and slide of her flesh made him groan. With one hand he drew her dress down her bare legs, and tossed it up onto the dashboard. He watched as she lay back across the seat and fiddled with the elastic waistband of her panties. He reached for the scrap of dark fabric and slowly eased her out of it. Silently she lifted her hips to help him, then held a hand out to him when she was nude. In a heartbeat, he was stretched out across her. He groaned. aloud at the pleasure of feeling her naked body against his for the first time.

(Some time later)

Relaxation flooded through her as completely as pleasure had. She cradled his head against her and wondered what she was going to say to him. Before she could think of anything clever, she fell asleep.

Vegeta felt her body go limp beneath him and decided he was too exhausted to be offended. With his cheek cushioned against her breast, he allowed himself to doze with her, lulled by incredible satisfaction and the sound of rain.

000

Peaceable Bay

Very early Sunday morning

Vegeta woke when the rain stopped. The windows of his truck were completely steamed up from the heat of their bodies. The luminous dial of his watch told him it was after two in the morning. He knew they should leave, get back to Washington before Goku and Chichi began to worry. But he was reluctant to let go of their time alone, away from the case and his obligations as a police officer. He certainly hadn't been thinking like a cop when he'd kissed Bulma the first time this evening. And things had gone downhill from there.

He'd done some stupid things in his time, but this was in a class by itself. Not only had he become involved with a witness on a case but he'd also done it knowing she was emotionally vulnerable. This had to stop—this insanity that took him over so all he could think about was her. It could get people hurt, especially Bulma. He didn't mind taking that kind of chance with his own safety, but he refused to put her life at risk any more than it already was. Bulma stirred beneath him. Instead of doing what he should have, Vegeta stayed where he was and enjoyed the feel of her while she slowly stretched out her legs and rolled her head on the seat. Bulma's hands sifted gently through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead so that she could see his eyes. The combination of pleasure and guilt in them told her nothing had been solved. Well, nothing but the physical side, and that had been solved right down to the soles of her feet.

"My, my, my," she said in a husky voice. "Is that what the Brits mean when they say 'Fuck me senseless'?"

Despite his mood, Vegeta laughed at her hard language and soft drawl. No matter how low he was feeling, she could always make him laugh, which was dangerously appealing for a man who had little to laugh about in his line of work. He knew it was time to return to that unhappy reality, but instead he wrapped his arms tightly around her in a hard hug.

"Bulma. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. What in hell am I going to do with you?" Vegeta asked, running his thumb along her lower lip.

Determined to keep him smiling, she said, "Anything you want, honey. Anything at all."

Temptation streaked through him. With a muttered curse he began to separate himself from her.

"My wants are the problem?' He sat up and ran both hands through his damp hair, disgusted with himself and the knowledge that he was going to kill the happy glow in Bulma's face and eyes.

"Why?" She sat up and hugged her arms around her self, suddenly cold now that they were no longer touching.

"What I want is to take you borne with me and not let you out of bed for a week." He turned to look at her and draped an arm along the steering wheel. "What I' m going to do is take you to Juu's home and not touch you again."

"But . . ." Bulma trailed off, gesturing at the state of the truck cab, with clothes flung around the interior. Well, it had been good for her, anyway. Hell, it had been incredible.

"I'm sorry," Vegeta said. A lie, but not the first one he'd ever told in the line of duty. "It never should have happened." That was the bitter truth. He forced himself to keep going, to keep seeing the happiness drain out of her when all he wanted was to pull her into his lap and start all over again. "Chemistry is bad enough, but having an ongoing sexual relationship within an investigative team makes clear thinking impossible. If we're going to get through this operation without anyone else getting killed . ." He shrugged.

"My thinking is pretty clear right now, for the first time in weeks."

"Maybe it's different for a guy," he said. "It's tough to stay in control of an explosive situation when all you can think about is getting your key witness flat on her back."

"Believe me, I've had similar thoughts about a certain detective." He smiled slightly but didn't stop talking. "Bulma, you told me yourself that these last few weeks are way off of normal for you. You were injured and now you're being stalked. You feel off-balance and, well, vulnerable. Anybody would. And I feel like dog shit for taking advantage."

"Hold it right there," she cut in. "I did everything but rip off your clothes, so forget about this taking advantage stuff."

He turned his head away, struggling for control. "Can't you see what's at stake? Don't you realize that if I'm reaching for you when I should be reaching for my gun, you could be dead? Are you hearing me?"

"Yes," she said, watching the muscle clenching in his cheek. What she was hearing was that the man she wanted didn't want her anymore. Too bad she had to find out when she was buck naked and trapped in the cab of a truck that still smelled of sex. "I hear you loud and clear."

He looked over at her and saw that she was hearing but she wasn't understanding. "Do you? Or do you think I'm feeding you some line now that we've had sex?" She couldn't meet his eyes.

"Listen to me, Bulma. I could be fucking you when I should be backing up Goku and he could end up dead. Even if all of us get lucky and stay alive, I'm still jeopardizing my work. They'd fire my ass in a hot minute if they knew about this. I don't want to have to look Renata Mendes's mother in the eye and tell her that her daughter's case is in the toilet because the lead detective is bouncing on the only witness."

Bulma winced and bit her lip. "I understand. Mrs. Mendes is lucky to have a cop who cares about his work enough to . . ." She searched desperately for a cliché. "To go that extra mile. Dedicated, I mean, and responsible." Bulma reached toward the dash and pulled her hopelessly crumpled dress over her lap.

"I'm sorry," Vegeta said, looking at her down turned face. "I wish like hell things could be different,"

"It's what it is," she said, trying to smooth out her dress. He was worried about losing his job. She was worried about losing her heart.

This was unknown territory for her. Even in her most serious relationship, when she'd actually considered marrying the man, she'd been able to walk away without many regrets after his demands threatened her career and independence. But with Vegeta . . .

Her palms went clammy. She wondered when he'd become so important to her and how she was going to cope with losing him.

Her lower lip wobbled a bit at the thought. She bit down harder, refusing to give in to tears. She'd never once cried over a man. She wasn't about to start now, even when it was painfully clear that she was more involved at an emotional level than Vegeta was. She was determined to be as cool as he was, no matter how hard it was for her. She was a strong person who had been in the professional world for a long time. She could suck it up and continue working with Vegeta. From this moment forward her attitude would be that of a modern woman on the morning after the night she'd made a really big mistake.

"Maybe once this is all over we can—" he began.

"Don't," she interrupted roughly. "We're at a Specific point in time, in a situation which will never be repeated. Given that, the whole thing was bound to turn out badly."

"That's not fair to either one of us. It was more than . . ." he looked around the cab of the truck.

"Steamy sex in the front seat?" she finished, then rushed on. "Whatever it was or wasn't, I'm not like you. I can't turn my feelings on and off like a switch. I'm either involved or I'm not. In our case it's not. It has to be."

Vegeta didn't like the sound of that. He didn't want to permanently let go of what was developing between them, he just wanted to put it on hold for a while, until things calmed down a little. "I don't want it to end like this," he said finally, frustrated.

"And I don't see an alternative. You've got your needs and I've got mine. They aren't compatible. I don't see either one of us changing—it's not in your makeup or mine to act like something we're not. It's one of the things we have in common."

"So where does this leave us?" Vegeta asked.

_Naked in the front seat of your truck._ Bulma turned her dress right side out and shook it with a snap. "You're the expert in police investigations, you tell me."

"Hell, I don't know. This has never happened to me before." He pushed a hand roughly through his hair and thought about the mess he'd made of the situation.

"No sex would be a good start," she said. "No sniping would be a bonus. We need to maintain a professional distance." Vegeta nodded. "I don't suppose you've seen my underwear?" Hearing her own words, she cringed. God, get me out of here before I do something else stupid.

Silently Vegeta fished around on the dash for her panties, found them, and held them out to her. Then he took his clothes and slid out of the cab to give her room to dress.

Bulma pulled her clothes on and congratulated herself for staying in control. While she could hardly pretend that making love in Vegeta's truck had meant nothing, it didn't have to mean everything. Even if she knew it did.

000

North City

Sunday afternoon

Bulma awoke feeling tired, grumpy, and distinctly sore in certain portions of her anatomy. She crawled gingerly out of bed and into the shower. Despite the blistering July heat outside, she cranked the hot water on all the way. If she couldn't wash away the memories of making love with Vegeta on the bench seat of his truck, she could at least try to ease the stiffness that came from forcing her late twenty some-year-old body to do something that should only be attempted by oversexed teenagers. _Or gymnasts._

Knowing she would be seeing Vegeta in Juu's office, Bulma forced herself not to spend too much time getting ready. Instead, she pulled her hair back and put on a minimum of makeup. After throwing on casual shorts and a top, she headed out of the house. When she got to Juu's office, Goku and Vegeta were just settling in. Bulma jolted when she saw Vegeta's dark head, but she made herself continue into the room and take the only empty chair—next to him.

"So how did the date with Randy go?" Juu asked eagerly.

Bulma felt her cheeks begin to bum at the prolonged, tense silence that filled the room.

"Ah, you'll probably want to cancel his membership with Camelot," Goku finally said.

"Another one? What happened?" Juu thought at first he might be joking, but after looking at Vegeta's face, she decided otherwise.

"He got stinking drunk and then wouldn't take no for an answer," Vegeta said.

"He drank a bit too much and didn't seem to realize I wasn't interested in continuing the evening at his place," Bulma said calmly, speaking over Vegeta's flat voice. Juu looked from one to the other, then decided she wasn't feeling brave enough to probe further into a subject that had Vegeta narrowing his eyes and locking his jaw.

"Okay, we'll be sure Randy doesn't make any further dates through our service," she said. "But I take it we can also eliminate him as a suspect?"

"Yes. He's an ass, but I don't think he's a murderer," Goku replied before Vegeta could speak.

"So that's five dates, and not much progress except for eliminating some potential suspects, right?" Juu asked.

"Not to mention flagging some real losers in your data base," Vegeta added bluntly.

Juu bit her lip and looked at her friend.

Bulma rubbed her hands together and tried for some enthusiasm. "Well, let's see who else we can pick out of the catalogue, hmmm?" Mentally pushing up her sleeves, she tilted Juu's monitor in her direction. "Where did we leave off?"

While Bulma and Juu reviewed eligible bachelors to be investigated, Vegeta sat next to her and brooded. He didn't understand her comfortable—even cheerful—attitude. The Bulma who had looked at him last night with dazed blue eyes and wild aqua hair was gone. In her place was a casually dressed, self-possessed woman who had barely glanced his way when she'd come into the room. As she quickly scanned the photos and gave Goku a running commentary on why she was choosing this or that candidate, Vegeta couldn't help but admire her efficiency and determination. She'd done exactly as he'd asked. She'd stopped reaching out to him emotionally and was treating him no differently than she treated his partner.

_And it was driving him nuts._

He'd been sure he'd hurt her. Since his main goal all along had been to protect her, he'd tortured himself with recriminations all last night. Now it seemed that she was fine, while he was still reeling from the effects of the storm they had created together on the banks of the Peaceable. When he remembered how it had felt to finally be inside her, he felt sweat popping out on his forehead. He could feel control slipping out of his grasp, even though things should have been falling in place for the first time in weeks. _Quite a jolt to the ego, eh, pal?_

Vegeta ignored the snide voice inside his head that implied he was having a hard time dealing with Bulma's ease with the new boundaries of their relationship. He told himself to get over it, or remove himself from the case. But even as he was now, wrapped up in his unwilling attraction for his witness, Vegeta was convinced he and Goku were the best team to catch the killer before he struck again.

Despite Vegeta's silence, Bulma was intensely aware of him. Though he wasn't looking at her, he seemed to be focusing his attention on her. She could practically hear the gears turning in his head, and wondered what was making him so tense and quiet.

"Bulma? Are you finished with the catalogue?" Juu asked.

Bulma started. As she glanced away from Vegeta she caught Goku looking at her speculatively.

"I'm done. Shall we call it a day?" Bulma asked.

Goku nodded. "We've got plenty of names to get started on for the second wave of background checks. You should be able to schedule some dates by late tomorrow."

"Great." Bulma stood and gathered her things as Juu excused herself to take a call in another room. "Would you mind giving me a ride home, Goku?"

Vegeta's head came up and he opened his mouth to object, then thought better of it. Goku looked between the two of them and shrugged. "Sure. Just let me check something first."

With his partner gone, Vegeta was alone with Bulma for the first time. Before he could think better of it, he said exactly what was on his mind. "If you can't even stand to be in the car with me, how are we ever going to have a working relationship?"

"Just playing by your rules. You wanted us both to back off, and that's what I'm doing. That doesn't give you license to poke at me."

Vegeta shifted in his chair. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"It's already forgotten," she said with a professional smile. "I'm sure it will be a challenge for both of us to get used to the way things have to be from now on."

"Ready?" Goku asked from the doorway.

The smile she gave him wasn't coolly professional. "Ready."

Watching them, Vegeta thought rather grimly that it didn't seem to be a challenge for Bulma at all.

"So, do you feel better after your drive last night?" Goku asked as they headed for the elevator.

She wondered if Vegeta had said anything. "Not really," she mumbled.

"Where did you go?"

"The Peaceable."

Goku rubbed his hand over his jaw and wondered if he should let it stand or try to pry more information out of her.

"You and Vegeta seemed kind of mad last night. Did you two work things out?" Goku asked as he steered her across the lobby.

"He outlined how things will be from now on," she said, trying to keep the note of bitterness out of her voice.

_Sure, he laid out the rules. But when I do exactly what he wants, he still pokes at me. _

"And I agreed."

Goku sighed and helped her into his car. As he walked around to the driver's side, he told himself to let the subject drop. He would be crazy to get between two strong-willed people who were desperately attracted to each other at the wrong time and place. But despite his strong survival instincts, he found himself trying to explain Vegeta to Bulma.

"Vegeta can seem kind of closed up sometimes, but he's the best friend and partner any cop could ask for. I consider myself doubly lucky that he's my family. Not everyone has relatives they like and respect, as well as love."

She nodded to show that she'd heard him but offered no other comment.

Goku forged on. "He has very strict ideas of right and wrong, and sometimes that's a powerful advantage on a case. But it can make it difficult to deal with him if you happen to have an opposing viewpoint."

"Was he always like that?" she asked, curious despite herself.

"Always. We had a hard life growing up. It's not that we were abused or anything—far from it. We had a stable home, solid folks, and plenty of food on the table. My mother and Vegeta's are sisters. We all lived together on a family ranch in the most beautiful country you'll ever see."

"Where was that?"

"Astrop Mountains that reach toward the sky, streams with water pure and cold. And all around you was open space. It was like a kind of paradise, but we paid a price. Living on a cattle ranch in the high country wasn't easy, and we all worked from the time we woke to the time we slept. Even when I was four years old I had chores to do every day."

"Is Vegeta older than you?"

"Yes. He's the oldest of the five of us, including me and my three younger sisters. That placed an extra burden on him, but he never complained. My father split just after the last of my sisters was born, and my mom moved to the main house on the ranch after that. I guess I relied on Vegeta to be a role model from then on."

"What about Vegeta's dad? Wasn't he around to be a father figure?"

"He worked hard keeping the ranch together once his foreman—my father—left. Vegeta's daddy is a harsh man, one who never had time for 'coddling' children. He loves Vegeta and me, he just doesn't know how to show it. Nor does he particularly feel the need."

"That's sad," she said, thinking of her own loving parents.

"In a way. But Uncle V did teach Vegeta about responsibility, and about being a provider and protector for his family. Vegeta took those lessons to heart. They made him an incredible soldier and team leader when he was in the army. As a cop, he approaches things with a focus and determination that still blow my mind."

"I see."

"Do you? You have to understand that when Vegeta is given a task—or when he commits himself to a goal—nothing gets in his way. Especially when the job is an important one, like working murder cases that have been shelved without being solved. It's something he feels very strongly about. It's part of what he is."

"Oh, I understand," she said. "And I truly respect that. But sometimes I think he has trouble seeing that there might be more than one way to get a job done."

"You're right. He can get a powerful case of tunnel vision. But usually with perseverance and persuasion—and the occasional two-by-four applied to his thick skull—you can get through to him and change his mind. For the times you can't, it's been my experience that he's usually right."

She said nothing, not sure she wanted to consider where their relationship fell in that scenario.

"He's a good man, Bulma. He just has trouble expressing himself sometimes. And he's a great cop. You couldn't be in better hands," Goku said earnestly.

"Believe me, I know all about his hands," she muttered.

"Ahh..."

"Sorry. I know what you're trying to do, and I appreciate it. I understand that Vegeta is a good investigator, and I have absolute confidence the two of you will break the case." She turned toward him. "I mean that—it's the only reason I can sleep at night."

Goku stopped in front of Juu's house and cut the engine. "You don't look like you slept much last night."

Bulma turned away from his penetrating hazel eyes. "No, that was the last thing on my mind."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Goku asked uncomfortably.

"No. You've explained a lot, really. I just—it's too fresh to talk about right now." Bulma fumbled with the door handle but stopped when Goku put his hand on her shoulder.

"I'm here when you're ready," he said.

"Thanks," she replied, smiling mistily at him.

Bulma opened the door and stepped out. As she turned, she nearly bumped into Chichi, who had come out to see what was taking so long. With the excuse that she had to make a few phone calls, Bulma hurried by her friend and into the house.

Chichi leaned down to speak through the open window. "What did you say to her?"

"Nothing. I was just trying to help with something."

"So what did Vegeta say to her, then?" Chichi asked.

"Damned if I know. But from the way they're both acting, I think the problem has more to do with what they did than what they said."

"Yeah, well you can't say we didn't see that one coming. If you'll pardon the pun," Chichi said.

Goku snickered. "Well, they're two smart people. They'll either work it out or make all of us miserable for awhile. Regardless, it's no big deal—"

"It certainly is a big deal," Chichi cut in. "Bulma doesn't sleep around. If she got involved with Vegeta then there's more to it than a one-night stand."

"Vegeta isn't my idea of a swinger, either. He's never done anything like this, especially not in the middle of an investigation. What I meant about it not being a big deal is that Vegeta's a pro. He won't let this get in the way of the case. And regardless of how things turn out between them, he'll protect Bulma with his life."

Chichi winced. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

000

**A/N:** Well there you go, that is Chapter 17 for you all. I hope there aren't any mistakes I really tried to fix it as best as I could BUT if there's some then tell me where so I could fix them. I cut this chapter out cause there is a LEMON scene. If you wish to read this chapter uncensored then go to my webpage you know where the link is. Email me if you liked that one too. Anyways I hope you guy like this chapter. Thank you all for the reviews, I dedicate this chapter to you.

**P.S.** Review, Review, Review…… That will be the only way I will update soon.

**FYI.** I was checking my calendar and its official I'm getting married in SIX Months…..oops did I forget to mention that I am getting married. Well I am but don't worry I will keep on writing.

Laters,

Lenk (XOXOXOXOXOXOXO)


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

* * *

North City

Monday afternoon

Vegeta tried to put Bulma out of his mind. It wasn't easy, even though he had a phone call scheduled with Yamcha Keeley, a behavior profiler out of North Hill. Vegeta had sent a copy of the most pertinent case files to North Hill, along with the crime scene video from the Mendes murder. He hoped the FBI agent's experience with criminal profiling would help give them some direction in their investigation, which at this point was stalled.

The box with Bulma's purse, the bloody sash, and the threatening note had been as clean as the evidence techs had feared. No one had been following Bulma—or if he had been, he was too good to catch. And as for the Camelot dates, they were a joke. Too bad he didn't feel like laughing. He wanted to get this case settled and he wanted it to happen fast, before Bulma's cheery professionalism made him grab her and find out how deep the I-don't-care act went. Settling at his desk with pen and paper to take notes, Vegeta dialed Keeley's number. He was put through immediately.

"Thanks for taking time to give an unofficial look at this case," Vegeta said.

"No problem. My sister said you and your partner could really use a break. The media coverage has even made it over here."

"Yeah. No doubt the weirdos and copycats will start on the prowl. That's why we need to move quickly."

Agent Keeley sighed. "I have to stress that I can't do a real profile without full access to the crime scenes, and a lot more detail than you've been able to give me. If you want something concrete, you're going to have to go through official channels—my boss meets your boss, and so forth."

"We're not looking to go to trial with this. I don't expect you to tell me we're looking for a middle-aged Caucasian janitor who happens to be a Sagittarius and likes French fries. We just need help making the killer stand out in our pool of almost two hundred suspects."

"So your witness can't remember anything and the killer has focused on the one that got away. Any more gifts?"

"No."

"Interesting," Agent Keeley said. "Maybe he's found a distraction."

"That would be good news for the witness and bad news for the investigation."

"Yeah. Okay, here are my general impressions, off the record of course."

"Absolutely. So far we have exactly nothing."

"I wouldn't say that. Anyway, I'm going to assume that you're basically familiar with the different categories of serial killers, based on their motivations."

"Yes. I'm thinking we have a control freak or a thrill-seeker here," Vegeta said.

"So am I. At this point, I'd lean toward control-oriented over the hedonistic or thrill-seeking killer. Given the risky nature of these attacks, and the fact that he's never been caught or left so much as a fingerprint behind that we know of, I'm fairly sure he plans his killings in advance."

"Agreed. Although he may not have always been this good," Vegeta said. "I'm willing to bet he left some forensic evidence behind at his earlier crime scenes, but it somehow got overlooked. Maybe the investigators' techniques or tools weren't up to today's standards."

"That's possible. At this point in his 'career' the killer probably stalks his victims for several days to learn their routines and choose the perfect site—one that's risky, but not stupidly so."

Vegeta nodded as he wrote. "I figure it's like a game to him. He might get caught, so that adds to the thrill when he's selecting his location and victim."

"Yes. The stalking phase is a vital component in his fantasy life. I'm willing to bet he gets off on the process of planning the killing almost as much as the actual deed itself," Agent Keeley said.

"That's one thing that confuses me. It's almost like the killing is perfunctory. There's no sexual assault, no torture, no indication of restraints, no defensive wounds. He kills with a single stab wound, but then gives her three or four more postmortem. Then he leaves them where they're lying, possibly taking a small trophy with him."

"I'd say he has no respect for women. Once the operation has gone as planned and they're dead, he's essentially through with them. Then he walks away without looking back."

"And the postmortem stab wounds?" Vegeta asked.

"I imagine they're a crack in his self-discipline. He possibly doesn't even remember inflicting those additional wounds."

Vegeta closed his eyes, trying to visualize how the attacks had taken place. "So the first stab is done while the victim is upright. It's a fatal wound. Then she falls and he stands over her and stabs her again, probably in the heat of the moment."

"Yes, it's an angry act. He may not realize that it's rage against a slice of the female population that's driving him. He thinks it's the stalking and killing of his prey that motivates him—if he thinks about it at all. There's an underlying disdain for women you can see in his acts."

"Isn't that true in most cases?"

"Some, but not all. I imagine this guy had a very dominant father, and a mother who was either submissive or abandoned the family. But I don't think his mother was the defining female presence in his life. He definitely has rage toward a particular group of women, which the victims all represent."

"They've all been Hispanic females, similar in coloring and build. But I don't understand why most were prostitutes, while the last one was a teacher. The only thing the victims had in common was living on the wrong side of town, but for Renata Mendes that was in her past."

"It's not uncommon for this type of predator to change his victim selection and modus operandi as he perfects his craft. Sometimes, these guys hit on something they really like, and go back to repeat it and feel that gratification again," Keeley said.

"Is that what you think is happening here?"

"I see a couple of possibilities. First, prostitutes are often a target of opportunity because of the reality of their profession. They're always out there, always easy. But as the killer matures, he wants more of a challenge, which could explain the shift in victims."

"You sound like you think there might be something else."

"It's possible. Let's go back to the Herrera case," Agent Keeley said.

"Cristina Herrera was a young mother of two, a reformed crack addict, and a former prostitute. She'd been living in a halfway house for a year and had just been cleared to get custody of her children again."

"In other words, she was a rehabilitation success story," Vegeta said thoughtfully.

"Exactly. When she was killed in her old neighborhood, just a couple of days before getting her children back, what was the local media reaction like?"

"They were all over it. She'd previously been profiled for a news story about a promising new rehabilitation technique. Her death was considered doubly tragic because she seemed to be on the verge of turning her life around," Vegeta said, remembering the newspaper coverage.

"You hit the nail on the head. The press was all over the story. I'm positive that fed the killer's need for more. He loved it—couldn't get enough, actually. That's why the next murder followed so closely after the first, at least compared to your estimates about his previous pace."

"That must be why he selected Renata Mendes," Vegeta said. "She was a poor kid from a bad neighborhood who had managed to make something of her life."

"And the media was sure to cover that angle of the story. It's one of the reasons she stayed in the headlines for more than one day. I'm sure he's still living off the thrill of that."

"Think of what would happen if the media got wind of the witness as his next potential victim," Vegeta said, feeling a cold sensation in his gut.

"Yes. I don't need to tell you she's in grave danger. This new victim he's stalking has raised the bar, so to speak. She's more challenging and alluring than any of the others, so he's probably willing to go to greater lengths to get at her. The payoff, in his mind, will be worth it."

"Jesus Christ."

"There's more. I see an element of ritual in the killer's MO, especially in the weapon selection, crime scene layout, and taking of the trophy. Ritual is very comforting to this type of killer, but in the case of Renata Mendes the routine was accidentally broken by your witness."

"She messed up his sick little game," Vegeta said. "She changed the rules."

"I'm afraid so. That may give him an even more powerful motivation, because he may feel the need to get things right this time. I think it's going to make his behavior even more risky, and certainly more difficult to predict."

Vegeta couldn't speak as rage and fear washed over him—even though he knew emotions wouldn't help him catch the guy who was threatening Bulma.

But the killer's own escalating drive and need to take risks would.

Vegeta thought quickly. "If the killer is changing his patterns, taking more risks, wouldn't it stand to reason that he'd be more likely to make mistakes? After all, he hasn't perfected his new methods yet."

"That's a logical conclusion," Keeley said. "Many serial killers are caught when their thrill-seeking behavior and growing boldness take them out of their comfort zone. In essence, they become too caught up in the game."

"Like when you're playing chess and get so wrapped up in planning your strategy you forget to watch what your opponent is doing."

"Exactly," Keeley said. "I think that's how you'll eventually nail this bastard. The only question is when."

000

North City

Friday evening

Bulma stepped into her high heels and tiredly rolled her head, trying to ease some of the kinks out of her neck. It had been four weeks since she'd stumbled across a murder scene, and the police weren't any closer to the killer than they had been that night. Now she was heading out on yet another date from Camelot's catalogue. While some of the men had gone out of their way to be charming and attentive, she couldn't say the same for herself. She did only what was required for the investigation—eating fine food, drinking sophisticated wines, playing a role to gather information, and then going home with a police escort. And every night she went to bed alone, knowing that the investigation was mired in Camelot's endless catalogue and her own lack of memory—except in dreams. She didn't remember then either; she just woke up clammy and terrified. Awake and alone, she told herself that the murderer had lost interest in her, but she couldn't believe it. She sensed the lurking, malevolent threat as clearly as she had when she'd received her purse and a victim's bloody sash, a cruel gift from a sadistic mind. Added to the strain of being around Vegeta day after day, it was enough to make her jump at every strange sound.

Vegeta wasn't doing anything to lower her level of tension. Night after night he sat at the bar with his gaze fixed on Bulma. Their eyes frequently clashed when she looked around the room during the evening, and each time was like a physical jolt. When she got up to leave the room, she could swear his eyes were burning into her back. They had hardly spoken two words alone since the night they'd made love. He went out of his way to avoid her and communicate through others. The mixed messages she was getting from his piercing dark stare and his standoffish actions kept her awake long into each night.

She supposed it was better than obsessing about the killer stalking her.

With her mouth turned down at the thought, Bulma fastened a set of dangling earrings in her lobes and picked up a light shawl from the chair in Juu's guest room. In the cab on the way to Camelot, she reviewed the file on her date for that evening. Just another normal guy, who worked a normal job and had no apparent fractures in his psyche.

"Seeking a true soul mate in a world of imposters." Bulma smiled faintly as she read the line beneath his photo. _Who isn't, my friend?_

When the cab dropped her at Camelot, she was taken to the nursery in the back. Juu was on the floor changing one of her babies, while the other howled loudly from the crib.

"Am I interrupting anything?" Bulma asked.

"No, come on in. The troops have just been fed, but Ezra seems to be a little annoyed at being put down for his evening nap. My nanny is gone, so it's just me, and the little monster will have to tough it out"

"Maybe he needs a little help to fall asleep, hmmm?" Bulma set aside her purse and shawl and stepped out of her uncomfortable shoes.

Crossing to the crib, she looked down at the red-faced baby crying in frantic gulps. She draped a cloth over her shoulder and lifted Ezra out of the crib, As soon as she bounced him gently against her shoulder, he calmed down. Trying to fit a clenched fist in his mouth, he surveyed Bulma with owlish blue eyes.

"Someone's pretty tired," she said in a soothing voice. "I bet a little time in the rocking chair will do the trick." She sat down in the rocker near the crib and gently adjusted the baby against her shoulder. He lay there, content to rest his head on her chest and look up at her shiny earrings.

"You're going to spoil him," Juu said affectionately.

"It's not possible to spoil something this sweet." Bulma pressed her lips to Ezra's forehead, then leaned her head against the back of the chair and sighed tiredly. "Kami am I beat. No offense, but when this is over I'm canceling my membership with your company. If I never go on another date it would be fine with me."

"Then how are you going to meet a man and have one of your own screaming babies some day?"

"There has to be another way. Besides, I don't see you going out on a lot of dates, either."

Juu laughed. "I'm a single mother with twin babies. Plus I'm trying to run a business. Some days I don't even get around to brushing my hair, so where would I find time to date?"

"I know it's tough, but some companionship might balance out your life. Besides, you might meet someone and fall in love. Then you'd have a partner to help you raise the boys."

"I don't think so." Juu hesitated, then confided in Bulma. "There's only one man for me and he's dead."

"I'm so sorry. You never said anything, so I wasn't sure . . ." Bulma trailed off.

"It's all right. It's been a year, so I should be getting used to the idea by now. But it still hurts. Even more when I think how he never even knew I was pregnant before he died."

Bulma tried to imagine how Juu must feel, but couldn't. "You're very strong."

"That implies I had a choice. With two babies, I'm just doing what has to be done every day and nothing more. Believe me, I never thought I'd be doing it alone. But he had a dangerous job which took him all over the developing world, so I should have known that something .. . could happen."

"What did he do?"

"He was a geologist working for an international petrochemical company. He went on a surveying trip and was murdered in a robbery attempt at the compound where he was staying. I found out I was pregnant three days after I was told about his death. We were never married."

Bulma bit her lip, unsure how to respond.

Juu looked up at her and smiled sadly. "It's okay. I'm learning to deal with it. And I can't regret the time we spent together, or the fact that I have two healthy boys to always remind me of their father. I don't want them to grow up without a male influence in their lives, but I'll never love another man the way I loved their father."

"Of course not, but that doesn't mean you can't love again, in a different way," Bulma said.

"There isn't any point. I've known real love, so why would I settle for second best? As for finding another man, who would want to be my consolation prize, knowing my heart is already given to someone else?"

Bulma felt her insides clench as the words hit dangerously close to home. Over the last week it had been almost impossible to work up enough energy to make small talk with her dates. Her thoughts were focused on Vegeta, and when she measured other men against him, they came up short.

'_Consolation prize. Is that what she would have to settle for once Vegeta was no longer in her life?'_

"Do you really think there's just one man out there for you?" Bulma asked, cradling the sleepy weight of the baby against her shoulder. "One true love for everyone?"

"Yes. If you're really lucky, things work out. If not, you take what you can for as long as you can have it, and then you have your memories to get you by. I'm lucky to have Cole and Ezra."

Bulma looked down at the child sleeping against her and envied Juu her certainty and her children. "They're wonderful boys, and you're a wonderful mother."

"You'll be a great mother, too. Look at how you settled him right down."

"First I need to meet the father," she said wryly. "Which reminds me—it's time for your date." Juu stood up with her other son.

"Can I have just a few more minutes?" Bulma asked, brushing her lips over the baby's incredibly soft hair.

"Would you watch them for a second then?" Juu said, putting Cameron in the crib. "I need to clean up in the kitchen."

"No problem." Bulma closed her eyes. "We'll be right here."

'_And so would the question that she couldn't duck and couldn't answer. Was Vegeta the one love of her life?'_

She'd certainly never felt this way about anyone before. He was affecting her work, her sleep, her social life, and her peace of mind. Worse, he'd become her measuring stick for the male of the species. And they could hardly bear to be in the same room together. Shoving away the unanswerable questions, Bulma continued to rock and cuddle the baby against her. Gradually the certainty of being watched made her eyes snap open. Vegeta was staring at her.

"Sorry to wake you," he said. "Your date's here."

He didn't know how he'd managed to make a coherent sentence. He'd never really thought about having children, though he had always assumed it would happen someday—when he was ready. The sight of Bulma, barefoot and dressed in a cocktail dress, gently rocking a sleeping baby in her arms, gave him an almost prescient feeling, a certainty that someday she would hold his child. It jerked the world out from under him. He didn't say another word to her. He was having enough trouble breathing past the tightness in his chest without trying to talk.

000

North City

Friday evening

The man frowned as Bulma's cab pulled away from the curb, quickly followed by an anonymous beige sedan. Watching, he clicked his thumbnail against his teeth in a nervous habit he wasn't even aware of.

'_This is ridiculous. Don't the police have anything better to do than follow her around?'_

At first he'd worried that she'd remembered something, perhaps even identified him, but after two weeks, he didn't think so. There was absolutely no sign that the police were interested in him. Even so, he decided that there wasn't any point in risking being noticed by following the cab as he had for the past three nights. Same time, same restaurant, different date, same cops.

My gift must have really shaken Bulma and the police if she has round-the-clock protection. He smiled at the thought and considered sending her something else just to watch the fuss and freshen up the story for the media. It was a delicious idea, but he decided against it as he had every other time it occurred to him. It wasn't that he was frightened by the police—they added spice to the game even as they made it more difficult—but the longer he watched Bulma and her escorts, the more he believed that the cops were using her as bait to get to him.

It wouldn't happen, of course. He was much too smart, far smarter than public servants driving tacky Chevy sedans. But that didn't mean he would be careless. As much as he wanted to feel his knife slicing into Marie Bulma, he could be patient when the goal was worth it. His sweet prey was definitely worth whatever patience it took, even if he was getting more and more restless. His thumbnail clicked more rapidly against his teeth as he tried to figure out why her dates picked her up and dropped her off at this building when she worked across town—not that she'd been at work lately. She spent her days in a house with cops parked outside and her nights coming and going from this building. The question was why. His own broker was based in the building, along with other trading offices and small businesses, but it wasn't likely that Bulma needed to check in with her broker on a nightly basis.

He needed to find out exactly where she spent her time in that office building, and if the police were really using her as bait. It would be risky, but at this point he decided there was greater risk if he didn't find out exactly what was going on. Besides, he was tired of just watching.

A movement across the street caught his eye. One of the building security guards was holding open the handicap-access door. A young woman with short blonde hair came out, pushing a double stroller in front of her.

The man smiled and licked his thumbnail as he recognized the woman. He'd seen her outside the Royal Gardens' home where Bulma and her little friend were staying. He'd also seen her talking to the police. He sat patiently as she loaded her babies into car seats in the back of her minivan, then folded the huge stroller and stored it in the back.

After she pulled out into traffic, he waited for a few moments to be sure that no one followed her. Then he made a U-turn and caught up with her at a stoplight. He followed her as she drove past the town house that had been Bulma's home for the last two weeks. When she turned right, so did he, watching while the minivan turned into an alley that ran behind the row of houses.

He paused for a minute, then pulled forward. He saw the blonde woman unloading her babies and their car seats and carrying them through a gate—right into the backyard of the house where Bulma was staying.

He drove further down the street until he found a parking spot, then doubled back to survey the entrance of the alley on foot. He was close enough to read and memorize the woman's license plate. After about twenty minutes, the woman came out alone with several duffel bags. She returned to the house and immediately brought the babies back to the car. Once they were secured in their seats, she stopped to close a padlock on the back gate.

As he watched the woman drive away, he smiled. Fate had been particularly generous with him lately. He now knew exactly how to make his sweet prey think of him, send the media and the police into a frenzy, feel another woman's terror just before she died, and be perfectly safe. A sexual shudder built from the base of his spine. Tomorrow would be a very good night.

000

North City

Saturday afternoon

Vegeta and Goku sat at their desks reviewing the status of several leads on the Mendes murder investigation. They were developing a system to divide Camelot's male clients into several different categories of risk, a time consuming procedure requiring daily updates to the database of suspects they were creating.

"All clients on our list who haven't been run through the law enforcement computers will be categorized as high risk," Vegeta said.

"Agreed. And once they've been through a preliminary check they'll get moved to medium risk, depending on the results. Only medium-risk clients will be allowed to go out with Bulma for further assessment." Goku made notes as he spoke. "After the dates, anyone who's been dismissed will be categorized as low risk, but we won't formally eliminate any suspect until we actually catch this bastard."

"We have to move faster. It's been a month since Renata Mendes was murdered. I don't think the killer will wait long before he strikes again. Keeley pretty much agreed with me that the guy was speeding up his pattern."

Vegeta looked up as their captain approached. He could tell it wasn't going to be a pleasant discussion when Captain Broly remained standing, rather than taking a seat at one of the desks.

"What progress have you two made?" Broly asked.

"We're putting together our weekly report—" Vegeta began.

"I need something right now," Captain Broly interrupted. Sensing their supervisor's foul mood, Goku spoke cautiously. "The Crime Scene Unit in charge of the Mendes case hasn't come up with any conclusive forensic evidence for us to work with."

"We have details of the cause of death and the layout of the scene documented," Vegeta added. "There are similarities with several other unsolved stabbing deaths in the metro area, including North County."

"But no hard evidence?"

"None. This guy is careful to carry out his attacks in heavily trafficked areas, so the odds of getting useable hair, fiber, or prints are pretty much zero," Vegeta said.

"What about the dating service thing? Any suspects there?"

"We've been able to classify every man the witness has seen as a low-level risk, which essentially eliminates them from further active investigation," Vegeta said. "Our witness continues to review the remaining members of the service. We have a nightly operation to get the witness and suspects in close proximity and see whether we can make an identification of the killer."

"At this rate, it could be months before you make it through every suspect, right?"

Both detectives nodded.

"That's not good enough." Broly threw an advance copy of the Sunday paper on Vegeta's desk. "The shit will hit the fan tomorrow. Someone's been leaking tidbits to Lambert. She's written a story citing unnamed sources that could blow the lid off your witness."

Goku stood up and looked over his partner's shoulder. In a small box on the front page was an article by Lunch Lambert slamming the N.C. police for not having any suspects or leads a month after Renata Mendes's murder. The story went on to question the capabilities of the investigative team, given the fact that they'd made so little progress despite the assistance of an eyewitness to the crime. Vegeta clenched his fists around the sides of the paper as he flipped to page twelve and read the last of the story.

And in an ironic turn of events, an unnamed police department source has stated that on the night of the murder, the eyewitness in question, whose name has not been released, was returning home from an evening spent at Camelot Services Inc., a dating service located near the scene of the clime. The eyewitness was injured trying to escape from the killer, but the police source indicated that the individual has recovered and is resting at an undisclosed location. Is there no end to the perils of dating in the 21st century?

"Fucking gossipmongering leeches," Vegeta said. "Don't they have any idea how much danger this puts the witness in?"

Why should Lambert care?" the captain said. "A dead witness makes a better story, especially if said witness is in protective custody when she dies."

"Very few people know who the witness is, and only her surveillance team knows where she's staying," Goku said, more to reassure Vegeta than the captain.

"Move her anyway. speak to the group doing the surveillance about some new rules. Unnamed source, my ass." The captain walked away without further comment.

"Shit. Any ideas on who the leak is?" Goku asked.

"No, and he'd better hope I never find out. Dammit, this could drive the killer over the edge." Vegeta pushed back from his desk. "We'd better tell Bulma and get her moved. Where is she now?"

"Her team said she returned to Afton's place about two hours ago. She's probably getting ready for her date tonight."

Vegeta made a sour face and headed for the door with Goku right on his heels.

* * *

A/N: I am so, so, sorry that I haven't updated this Story. With work, my wedding planning and being my boss personal assistant, well I have very little time. It's a short chapter but I hope you like it. Please let me know if you do or not.

Anyways this chapter is dedicated to all the people who read and review this fic.

P.S. Review, Review, Review that is all I ask.

P.S.S. I promise I will have this story finished before I get married. Which reminds me I only have 3 months to go.

Later / Love you all


	19. Chapter 19

Do not own DBZ

* * *

Chapter 19 

OOO

North City

Saturday evening

Bulma stood in front of the bathroom mirror and ran her fingers through her wet curls. She was preparing for date number whatever—she'd lost count, much less any sense of urgency. Chichi was out shopping and wouldn't be back until after Bulma left. It had been a lovely, quiet afternoon, but it was time to put on her cock­tail dress and perfume and pretend to be someone she wasn't for the evening. She shrugged into a soft robe and wandered into the bedroom, looking out the window while she fastened the belt. She sighed and decided it looked like another storm was coming, bringing with it an early gloom.

_Wonderful. I __beat my hair into shape and the humidity makes it go __sproing. Maybe__ just let the curls do their curly thing._

Since Bulma's bedroom overlooked the back of the house, she couldn't see the surveillance team, but she knew they were around somewhere. They always were, like the humidity. The gate in the backyard banged open and shut as a burst of wind rustled the trees and shrubs. Bulma frowned at the noise. The six-foot-tall gate was always closed and secured with a padlock. She was sure it had been closed when she had gone up to take a shower. Otherwise she would have heard it banging in the restless wind that preceded the thunderstorm. From her second-story bedroom, nothing looked out of place in the backyard or alley. The patio furniture, glider swing, and the barbaque set were all neatly arranged in the small yard. There weren't any strange cars in the alley. The gate banged again, and her heart beat a little bit faster. Tightening the knot on her robe, Bulma padded down the stairs in her bare feet. Feeling foolish, she went through all the rooms to make sure she was alone. Only then did she go back to the back door. The gate banged again as the wind shifted direction. The hinges creaked and the gate opened after failing to latch properly.

'Maybe Juu forgot to lock it yesterday?'

A chill went through Bulma's body. She blamed it on the fact that she was standing in an air-conditioned room with wet hair and nothing but a short robe for cover. She should really go secure the gate, but when she reached for the back door, something made her hesitate.

'Don't be silly, it's still light outside, and you have two policemen within yelling distance. Just go out and close it.'

With a deep breath, she opened the door and walked out onto the back step. The wind gusted again; bringing the scent of rain and making her robe whip around her knees. She shivered and knew it was pure nerves. The air outside was heavy with humid heat. She slowly walked down the brick path, making her way between the chaise lounge and a patio table. As she passed the glider swing, she reached a hand out to stop its slow creaking motion. There was silence in the yard. Holding her robe against another playful tug of sultry air, she continued toward the back gate, which was slowly swinging open again. As she passed the grill and oversized wooden barbeque counter, which were protected from the elements by a dark green tarp, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. Heart hammering, she turned and looked. A woman lay curled on her side, facing the fence. She was slender and had a cap on blond hair.

"Juu!"

Bulma leaped forward and gently turned the women over, then jerked back, instinctively recognizing the look and smell of death. The woman's blue eyes were open and vacant. It wasn't Juu. It was a woman wearing a blond wig. Bulma leaned closer in horrified fascination and looked at the woman's blue eyes and pale skin. The wig had fallen off mare than halfway when Bulma turned her over. Underneath the wig, the dead woman's hair was thick and blue and curly. She had been wrapped in a tattered, light-weight coat. Bulma held a hand to her mouth and began to shiver visibly.

'He wanted me to think it was Juu. He's playing games again.'

She turned to get the police officer from the front of the house and found herself staring at a man holding the open gate. He wore a baseball cap and dark glasses, along with dark jogging clothes. She was opening her mouth to ask him for assistance when he smiled at her. It was the smile from her nightmares.

"Bulma Briefs. Sweet prey, you're next." The man spoke in a harsh whisper, and then was gone. His running footsteps echoed down the alley.

Bulma decided that the fastest way to get the cops was to scream. It felt so good that she did it again. Thirty seconds later, a cop appeared on the back porch, weapon drawn. His partner came running through the alley and stopped in front of the gate when he saw Bulma.

She mentioned frantically at the open gate. "White male, blue jogging shorts, blue cap, dark glasses. Hurry, hurry! He's running away!"

The younger officer immediately turned and sprinted up the alley. The second cop took her arm and started hustling back into the safety of the house.

"Wait-she-" Bulma pointed with trembling fingers toward the woman lying in her back by the fence.

The officer briefly assessed the victim. "She's not going anywhere. Get inside until I get some backup here."

He dragged Bulma through the yard and into the house. He locked the back door, pulled her into the kitchen, and shut the blinds. Bulma dropped into the chair and put her head in her hands while the officer called in backup and checked with his partner on the radio.

"Any luck, Bailey?"

A few seconds later his partner responded. "Nothing," he panted. "I saw him running, but he headed up to the university and I lost him in the crowd. I'm doing another check of the area. Campus police assisting."

"I'll get the CSU. We've got another murder victim here." The officer turned to her. "What happened?"

"I heard the gate banging and went out to lock it."

The cop said something under his breath.

"I saw her-the dead woman-and thought it was Juu. Then he-he-said 'Bulma Briefs'. He knew my name. He said I was next." Her voice broke as she finished, and the officer put a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

"It's all right now. You're safe. I'll ask CSU to bring a sketch artist. Is there anything more you can tell us about the guy?"

She took a shaking breath and then another, calming herself. "He's a tall white male, at least six feet, with a medium build. Between the hat and glasses. I didn't really see much. I got the impression he has dark hair, but didn't see it well. A blue baseball cap and navy jogging shorts are about all I can remember," Bulma said.

The policeman repeated her description into the radio. Bulma sat with her face in her hands again, her mind reeling.

'He could have killed me. I'd be another case in Vegeta's file.'

'Vegeta'

Bulma covered her mouth with her hand and unconsciously rocked herself for comfort.

OOO

North City

Saturday evening

Vegeta and Goku were two blocks away from Juu's house when they heard the call sign of Bulma's surveillance team on the police scanner. Goku was driving, so it was Vegeta who turned up the sound.

"Need medical examiner and CSU at backyard, this location. Female DOA, mid-twenties, blue eyes and blue curly hair."

Vegeta's stomach flipped "Sweet Kami. It can't be." But he knew all to well that it could.

Goku floored the accelerator for the last block, then hit the brakes for a squealing stop in front of the house. Vegeta bailed out before the car was fully stopped and ran up the stairs. The front door wasn't locked which saved him the trouble of kicking it in. He ran through the entry and saw a flash of purple from the corner of his eye. Bulma was in the kitchen, head in hands, wearing her short purple robe. She looked at him as the front door slammed into the hallway so hard that it punched through the drywall. The relief that Vegeta felt overwhelmed him. With a muffled sound that was her name, he rushed into the kitchen and swept Bulma in a bone crushing hug.

"Are you all right?" Vegeta asked, his voice raw with emotion. He could feel the tremors shaking her body.

"Yes. Oh, Vegeta." She wrapped her arms around him and held on with all her strength. She felt her eyes start to sting with tears, but she was afraid to give in to her emotions that were tearing her apart. Instead, she buried her head in the curve of Vegeta's neck and blocked out everything but him.

Vegeta closed his eyes, letting his face drop into the damp warmth of her curls. He pressed desperate kisses everywhere he could reach-her hair, forehead, cheeks, eyes. He breathed in her scent repeatedly and willed his heart to start beating normally again. He was only distantly aware of Goku pulling Officer Ginyu out of the kitchen to request an update. After several minutes, Vegeta gently set Bulma back down on the floor. He cupped her cheeks with both hands and looked into her shadowed eyes before kissing her lingeringly on the lips. She tried to reassure him with a weak smile.

"I'm all right," she said. "Really."

He dropped his forehead onto hers. "Sweetheart, I though you were dead. I thought Ginyu was reporting that he found your body in the backyard."

"Oh." Her heart turned over at the look of his face.

"Yeah, 'Oh.' You took ten years off my life."

"To tell you the truth, I thought I was dead, too."

"What the hell happened here tonight?"

Her lips trembled as she remembered coming face-to-face with the killer in the backyard. "I saw him. He put a dead woman in the backyard. And he was standing not ten feet away from me. He looked at me and said my name."

"Kami." '

She shivered and whispered raggedly, "He said I was next."

She flinched at the vicious words that came out of Vegeta's mouth. He saw her reaction and pulled her to him again. "It's all right, sweetheart. We'll get him, I promise."

She nodded and held on hard to him. It was the only way she would be able to keep herself from falling apart completely, and that was the last thing anyone needed from her right now.

"Everything okay in here?" Goku asked from the doorway.

"She's fine." Vegeta said, stepping back from Bulma reluctantly.

"Then you don't mind if I do this," Goku said, coming into the kitchen and catching Bulma in a bear hug of his own. He landed a smacking kiss on her lips before she could catch her breath.

"You scared the shit out of us, lady."

Bulma hugged Goku back. "I was pretty scared, too."

Feeling tears threaten again, she ended the hug and stepped back, struggling for her disappearing composure. She straightened her shoulders and tightened the belt on her robe, knowing she had to hold herself together for a little while longer.

"I appreciate your concern, both of you. But there's someone outside who needs you more right now."

"Bulma-" Vegeta began, concerned by her visible effort to control herself.

"No. You need to go do your job. I'll be fine right here. Believe me, I'm not going anywhere. But you need to do what-what you can do for her. She looked so-so small."

Goku went out the back door and out onto the porch. Turning away from Vegeta, she went to the cupboard and began to take out the making for coffee and tea. She measured scoops of ground coffee and poured them into the coffeemaker. Her hands barely shook. Vegeta looked at the strong line of her back for a long moment, then brushed a hand over a hand over her wild curls and said,

"Have I told you how great you are?"

He was in the backyard before she could answer.

OOO

North City

Saturday evening

Vegeta went outside to where Goku was making notes on the murder scene. They both stood over the body for several minutes, studying the details and mentally comparing them to previous cases. There was no blood or sign of a struggle in the yard.

"He stabbed her somewhere else and dumped the body here. No blood on the scene here-and probably not on him-because he wrapped her in the raincoat after she was dead," Vegeta said.

Goku nodded. "He's changing his routine. He wants to make a statement. Look at the wig-he doesn't like blondes. But he wanted us to think it was Juu." He shook his head as he took in the blonde wig with a trendy cut.

"Wrong," Vegeta said. "He wanted Bulma to find the body and think it was Juu. He's playing with her emotions. He's building up to something big, and really getting off in this process. Nappa warned me about this."

"And the killer is improvising, too," Goku pointed out.

"I think the actual encounter with Bulma wasn't planned. But once he got here and the opportunity presented itself, he couldn't resist the temptation."

"He's taking bigger and bigger chances to get to her." Vegeta said grimly.

They looked back at the house. Bulma stood on the top step waiting for them to notice her.

"I got coffee and tea for whoever wants it. Sodas as well," she said, as if she were offering refreshments at a backyard barbeque.

"Thanks. Is the sketch artist here?" Vegeta asked.

"In the kitchen drinking coffee."

"Work with her, okay? Then get some rest. It's going to be a long night."

She hesitated, then went back into the house. Vegeta turned as Ginyu and Bailey walked through the back gate with frustration evident on their faces.

"We've done a thorough check of the alley and the roads all the way up to O Street and the University gate, and we've got nothing." Officer Ginyu said in disgust. "It's all paved, so there are no footprints. No trash or papers left behind. No saw anything or even heard a dog bark. What is this guy, a ghost?"

Vegeta said nothing, just examined the broken padlock and open gate. He turned his head and looked towards the house, realizing that Bulma's room overlooked the backyard. With the drapes open, he could see right into the room. At the moment, she was standing in front of the closet. He watched her select some clothes from there before moving into the bathroom.

"We've got to get both of them out of here," Vegeta said.

Goku followed Vegeta's gaze. "The normal safe house is already being used from the witness of a drug trial. I don't think we want Bulma or Chichi anywhere near that sleazebag. I guess we could use a hotel."

Vegeta shook his head and checked his watch. "I want them to go to separate location anyway. There's a chance the killer has been tracking Bulma through Chichi's movement. I want to make sure that doesn't happen again."

"Any idea when Chichi is coming back?" Goku asked.

"No. Ginyu said she went shopping in one of those outlet malls, so it could be a while. Her cell phone is off. "

Goku shoved his hand in his pocket and waited, knowing what was coming next.

"I am going to take Bulma somewhere and lie low for about thirty-six hours," Vegeta said. "No one-not even the surveillance team-will know where we are. I'll take the sedan. Someone at the station can drop my truck off for you when you're ready to take Chichi to her new location."

"Id that's the way you want to do things," Goku said.

"It is. Once I'm sure the killer has been thrown off the scent, we'll find a safe location for both of them."

Goku considered remaining silent, then thought better of it. "For someone who's trying his distance from a witness, you're sure going about it in an odd way."

Vegeta gave his partner a hard look. "Someone needs to protect her. She knows and trusts me."

"And what about when we got here tonight?"

"What about it? I was glad to see she was alive. She needed to be held."

"But you needed it more," Goku said. "I felt like I was intruding on a very intimate scene."

"Kami, you make it sound like we had sex right there in the kitchen," Vegeta said, ignoring the fact that he and Bulma had once very nearly done just that.

"No, but something emotional intimacy is more dangerous than sex," Goku shot back. "And what's more, you know it, since you spent your entire adult life avoiding it."

"Do you really want to get into my past history with women right now?" Vegeta asked between his teeth, aware of the fact that they were not alone.

"I am not attacking you. I just want to make sure you're thinking straight. I want you to ask you're self breaking all the rules with Bulma, and whether you're doing here any favors by acting this way in the middle of a homicide investigation."

They were both silent, aware that Vegeta's behavior today had edged over the line professionalism-again. Only this time there were witnesses. But the truth of the matter was, he wouldn't do anything differently if given the choice. Even now he felt an overwhelming need to find Bulma, to hold her close to him and make sure she was going to be okay, mentally as well as physically. And he would do just that, once he got her out of here.

"She could have died today," Vegeta said. "Do you think I give a rat's ass about the rule right now?"

"No."

"I'm taking Bulma with me. You can read into that whatever you want. I want her in a secure location for a day or two while we look for a more permanent arrangement. They're not coming back here."

Goku sighed and gave in. "Zarbon and his family are leaving for ten days. Caribbean Cruise or something. Maybe we can use his house in North County once they're gone."

"Good idea. Would you take care of that with Zarbon and the captain?"

"Sure."

Goku turned back to the dead woman, thinking how glad he was that it wasn't Bulma. He couldn't imagine what Vegeta had felt before he'd found out that Bulma was alive.

"I'll see if there are any missing persons matching her description-either blonde or marine," Goku said.

Vegeta nodded, but didn't feel optimistic. The victim, while having a superficial resemblance to Juu with the wig, was obviously a young woman used to hard living. Needle tracks scarred her dirty arms. She looked like she'd existed on the edge of civilized society-a woman who wouldn't be missed anytime soon. A quick and easy kill.

'He told me I was next.'

Vegeta's gut clenched, but he didn't say anything-he just studied the corpse as the Crime Scene Unit pulled up in the alley behind Juu's house. Goku stepped aside as the team began to set up.

"Put the rush on all lab work, especially fingerprints," Vegeta said as he stepped back. "It looks like she was killed somewhere else, so we've got another crime scene somewhere in the city. Keep an eye out for anything that would help find it."

"We'll let you know as soon as we've got something, Detective," the supervisor promised. "Believe me; this case is getting the top priority for lab and manpower."

For the next hour Vegeta and Goku watched the crime scene team carefully gather evidence while early darkness descended. When the medical examiner's van came up to pick up the body, the detectives went back into the house, knowing there was little else they could do that night. Ginyu was gulping a cup of hot coffee in the kitchen.

"Where's Bulma?" Vegeta asked.

"Updates."

Vegeta found Bulma standing by the window in a dark room. He went to her and looked down. Someone was bringing a body bag through the back gate. He closed the drapes and flipped on a light before he turned to Bulma.

"Don't torture yourself," he said. "There was nothing you could do about any of it."

Bulma ran a listless hand through curls that were still damp. "All I can think of is that poor girl that was murdered for no other reason that to terrify me. And it did it. When I thought that body was Juu, I..." Her voice died.

Vegeta kept his hands in his pockets. It was either that or reach for her, and this wasn't a good time or place. "The killer gets off on power, on being on control."

"He-he seems unreal, like a ghost, not human." She tilted her head back and shook hair out of her eyes.

"He's human," Vegeta said, "even though we'd feel better about the human race if he wasn't. But he's a real person with real fingerprints and real mental problems. He can be analyzed, understood, and caught."

Can he? This house is under police surveillance, and he killed her-"

"Not here," Vegeta cut in.

"-dumped the body," she continued without a pause, "had a chat with me and wasn't spotted by the police. Did any of the neighbors see him?"

"We've got a team out asking."

"Did they see him?" she insisted.

Vegeta sighed. "No. He's either really stupid or really willing to take risks."

"He isn't stupid. He knew just what buttons to push to terrify me. The blonde wig, the threat."

"Up to now we've been forced to play the game his way. That stops now. Pack up, Bulma. You're leaving."

"What about Chi?"

"Goku will take care of her. I'm taking you someplace quiet for a day or two, until we find another house."

"All right, I'm ready." Bulma pointed to her bags, which were neatly lined up by the door.

"I knew I wouldn't be staying here."

Vegeta took Bulma's large bag and let her lead the way downstairs. She went out the front door without a glance at the lights and activity at the rear of the house. The front yard was so normal it made her shiver. He settled her into the front seat of the car. When she didn't pick up her seat belt, he reached across her to fasten it. He started the engine, worried by her silence. They drove without speaking for several minutes.

"Did tonight help you remember anything from the other murder?" Vegeta asked.

"No. Just that this guy is real and I can't forget for a moment he's out there."

"He's real, but he's not going to get another chance at you, so don't think about it."

"What about future dates with Camelot?" Bulma said, thinking about her role in the investigation.

"Your dating days are history. From now on, you don't leave my sight. No one but me knows where you're stay­ing. Neither you nor Chichi will be going back to work, or even calling in to the office. Hell, I don't even want you logging into the network remotely, okay? No grocery shopping, no day spas, nothing that has been part of your routine for the last month."

Bulma was too numb to argue, and instead looked out the window. She was so emotionally spent that she could barely respond to what was happening around her. The only thing she could do was bounce between the blank­ness in the dead girl's eyes and Vegeta's urgent, protective embrace. Finally Bulma closed her eyes and put her head against the seat. She didn't move until Vegeta unfastened her seat belt and said,

"We're here."

"Here" was a beautiful hotel with an excellent security system. Vegeta ignored the bellman, carried their bags, and showed Bulma to the door of the suite. He put her hags in the bedroom and went straight to the lavish bathroom. Soon hot water was thundering from the elaborate faucet on the jetted tub. He added a few colorful bath bubbles for the hell of it.

"Go in and soak," he said. "If you don't relax your mus­cles, you'll never sleep tonight."

Automatically Bulma looked over at the suite's only bed.

"When I'm ready to turn in, I'll take the foldout bed in the living room," he said, stuffing a plush hotel robe into her hands. "I'll order dinner and a bottle of wine from room service while you steam up the place. Any preferences?"

The thought of food made her wince. "I'm not really hungry."

"I didn't ask whether you were hungry, I asked whether you wanted to choose what you're going to eat or not."

She smiled faintly at his surly response. "Something light, I guess. Whatever. I trust you."

She went into the bathroom and closed the door, twist­ing her hair into a knot on top of her head. She took off her clothes and slipped into the hot, foamy water with a sigh. Five minutes later there was a knock on the door.

"Are you decent?" Vegeta asked.

"I'm wearing what people usually wear in the bath."

"Better dive into the suds. I'm bringing you something."

She sank to her chin in the bubbles, feeling ridiculously shy with a man who was—or had been-her lover. Vegeta walked in carrying a brimming glass of red wine.

"I found this in the liquor cabinet. I want you to drink the whole thing. It will help you to take the edge off your adrenaline high."

She eyed the huge glass. If she drank it she would lose some of the emotional control she'd been rebuilding shred by shred. On the other hand, she might also forget the sight of the dead girl's eyes and the killer's twisted smile.

"Medicine, huh?" she asked.

"Definitely."

Bulma reached for the glass and took a healthy swallow. Raising her eyebrow at Vegeta as he continued to hover, she took another gulp to satisfy him.

"I'll call you when dinner gets here," he said, closing the door as he left the steamy bathroom.

Sighing, Bulma idly rubbed her big toe around the spigot, catching the occasional drop of hot water that still fell into the bubbles surrounding her. She sipped and sipped again, deciding that the wine was the tastiest medicine she'd ever had. Between that and the bath, she was feeling warm for the first time since she'd heard Juu's back gate banging in the wind.

Suddenly she was seeing a corpse and vacant blue eyes. No, she told herself, I'm not going there tonight. Tonight I'm going to concentrate on if and living.

_Vegeta._

It was time to quit fooling herself. Her last thoughts before going to sleep were about him, and first thoughts on waking. The day didn't really begin until she saw him. She'd never felt more alive than when she was with that impossible, infuriating, tender, and incredibly won­derful man.

_I love him_. It was that simple—independence and self- preservation be damned.

She felt shaky but better for having admitted her feel­ings to herself. Then she took a swallow of wine and won­dered what to do next. Juu had been right. Bulma should take whatever she could, for as long as she could, and be grateful for the opportunity to love a man like Vegeta. And maybe, just maybe, the maddening man could be per­suaded to think the way she did.

From the suite came the sound of room service setting up dinner. Smiling, she drank the last of the wine for courage, grabbed a towel, and reached for her toiletries bag. She couldn't do anything about the future right now. She couldn't even be certain she would survive the next few days. But she had this moment, and she wasn't going to waste it. She smiled as she caught her own reflection in the steamy mirror. Detective Vegeta Ouji didn't know it yet, but he was in for the night of his life.

OOO

North City

Saturday night

Vegeta impatiently paced the suite's living room. He'd already told Bulma their dinner had arrived, but she was still locked in the bathroom.

_Easy._ _She had a hell of a scare tonight, so maybe she's earned some alone time. Everything here can wait until she's ready._

He thought about the box stashed in the room service cart and the whopping tip he'd given the bellman for rounding up some razor blades and such for Vegeta, who hadn't expected to be spending the night away from home.

He splashed a bit more wine in his own glass, though he wasn't planning on drinking any. Then he wiped a hand across his forehead. Even without his jacket and shoulder harness, his body felt hot, edgy. The dishes were all arranged and the wine was poured, He thought about the pale, distant expression on her face as they'd checked into the hotel and added another inch of wine to her glass. She needed to relax and not think about the man who could have killed her tonight. Vegeta needed some reassurance, too, because he felt like he'd let her down.

_That son of a bitch never should have gotten within a mile of her, but he had._

Since Vegeta couldn't take the killer out at this point, the only way he could think to comfort everyone tonight was to wrap Bulma in a cocoon of warmth and security. A hot bath, good food, wine, and then he'd tuck her into bed and sit in a chair guarding her, or sit up with her on the couch and hold her hand all night if need be. Whatever it took to re­assure her that the sun would come up tomorrow and she would be there to see it.

As for any more than hand-holding, after the clumsy way he'd handled things the night they'd made love, he didn't blame her for watching him with wary blue eyes. He'd really blown things by rushing her into sex, then pulling away afterward. He would have to be very careful not to place any demands on her physically at this point. If he was lucky and handled things right, maybe she would give him another chance when all this was over.

A cloud of steam and Bulma's delicate perfume fogged his brain. She was walking across the bedroom toward him, wrapped in an oversize robe and looking good enough to eat. He smiled at her and held a chair out at the table.

"I feel silly eating off fine china when I'm only wearing a bathrobe," Bulma said, picking at the plush collar and wondering if she should have changed into something more sexy. Well, outright seduction was new to her, and she would just have to learn it as she went along.

"It's pretty chilly in here with the air-conditioning," Vegeta said, looking away from her lingers touching the robe where it opened on flushed skin. "Dressing warm is a good idea."

Vegeta's prosaic answer set Bulma back. She'd been fishing for a compliment, but he was more interested in serving baked chicken and rice than admiring the picture she made with her dark hair and eyes against the snowy white robe.

"This looks good. I guess I'm hungrier than I thought." She picked up her fork and smiled shyly at Vegeta.

He stared at her for a moment before returning her smile. "I'm glad. There's lots of good protein in that. Eat up."

"Why, am I going to need energy for something to­night?" She actually twirled a curl around her finger as she spoke, then bit her lip, wondering if she had gone too far. This seduction thing was tricky, and subtlety was against her nature.

"A full stomach is the best way I can think of to ensure a good night's sleep," Vegeta said with forced cheer, telling himself that there was no way she was coming on to him. She was just relaxed and vulnerable and trusted him. He'd live up to that trust if it killed him. He turned to set the serving dishes back on the tray.

Bulma rolled her eyes at his back and ate silently for a few minutes. Then she tried again, this time ditching the subtlety. "Could you pour me some more water, please? I'm feeling awfully warm." She loosened the belt of her robe, allowing the fabric to gape at her neck and expose the top curves of her breasts. She fanned herself and looked at him with innocent blue eyes.

Vegeta frowned at her. "How much wine have you had?"

"Just the one glass."

"The bathwater wasn't that hot. Maybe you're coming down with something." He reached across the table and felt her forehead like a nurse.

She slapped his hand away in exasperation. "Kami, you have to be the densest man on the planet. In case you haven't noticed, I'm throwing myself at you!"

Vegeta looked like he'd been hit with a two-by-four. Then his expression hardened and he pushed his chair back from the table. He went to stand by the window with his back to her.

"I thought, given your reaction to seeing me earlier to­night, you'd be a little more receptive," she said. "Is some­thing wrong?"

"Oh. I don't know, let me think. Maybe the fact that you could have died today?" Vegeta asked. "How's that for wrong?"

"I realize that. It put a lot of things into perspective for me. It changed everything."

He sighed. "Nothing has changed. Your life is pretty much the definition of fucked up right now. You've been scared shitless and you aren't in any frame of mind to make decisions about anything. Your new 'perspective' is an adrenaline-induced hormonal rush."

"Bullshit."

He turned to face her. "There's too much going on in your life right now, all of it bad. When—"

"That's not true," she interrupted. "What I'm feeling right now, what we had together before, these are the good things in my life. Being here with you tonight feels right. What really scares me is the thought of never feeling this way again."

He didn't trust himself to say anything as she stood and walked over to him.

"That was the most terrifying part of looking at the killer," she said, "seeing my own death written in his face—knowing that I wouldn't see you again. You were what I was thinking about at that moment, just you."

"Sweetheart, don't." Vegeta touched her cheek, moved beyond words. "I'm trying to do the right thing here, but I want you so much and it's so wrong."

"Why? I'm alive, and I want to feel alive with you."

He stared down at her, drowning in the blue depths of her eyes, torn by a temptation he'd never known.

She saw this, smiled sadly, and moved back from him. "But it has to be your choice. I'm going into this with my eyes open. I need to know that you are, too."

Vegeta thought about all the reasons he should take Bulma to her room, tuck her in, and make his own bed alone on the couch.

For about a second and a half.

Then he pushed everything aside but the fact that she needed him as much as he needed her. He stepped for­ward, sank his fingers into her hair, and kissed her until the room began to spin around them both.

"My eyes are wide open, and all I can see is you, Bulma."

The smile she gave him said he was the only man in the world. He kissed the smile gently, took her hand, and led her to the couch. She hesitated when he motioned for her to sit. Instead, she pushed against his shoulders to send him tumbling to the cushions. Or she tried, but he out­weighed her by about a hundred pounds. When she pushed again, he took the hint and sprawled back on the couch.

Trembling with a combination of nerves and anticipa­tion, she stood in front of him and loosened the belt on her robe. Two shrugs of her shoulders, and it was sliding to the floor to puddle at her feet.

His nostrils flared as he breathed in her perfume, and his hands clenched at his sides. He sat silently, running his eyes over her body as if it were their first time. It had been dark that night in his truck, and he was determined to glut himself on her beauty this time.

OOO

North City

Sunday morning

The man stepped out of his apartment to pick up the Sunday paper, eager to read about the latest murder in the city. He sat at the table where his breakfast waited, shook out the paper, and began scanning the headlines. He impatiently read about the discovery of a body in a house in O Street The details were sketchy, as the pa­per had gone to press before the police were willing to re­lease much information. So far there was no information about the connection of this murder to the others he'd committed.

His good mood began to dissolve.

He read on, looking for more information on the killing, but there was none. He flipped past the front page, feeling disappointment and anger build in equal amounts. His thumbnail clicked more quickly against his teeth as he fumed about stupid cops who couldn't recognize a serial murderer when he dumped bodies right in front of them. He was so distracted that he almost missed the story that had been pushed to page three. Apparently some reporter had made following the murder cases her ticket to' journalistic fame. He could feel excitement begin to flow through his body as he read her attempts to put the pieces of the story together. He stopped to read again the woman's blistering analysis of the police investigation to date. He closed his eyes and let the arousal build as he thought of the game he was playing with the police, and how he was clearly in the lead.

His hard-on shriveled pitifully when he read the last paragraph of the story, about the eyewitness and the ap­pointment with Camelot Dating Service. A hollow feeling replaced his excitement as he realized this was one thing that could possibly lead back to him. He'd had no idea Camelot was located in that office building off 40th Circle—the company must have moved from its previous location.

His mind raced as he considered how to deal with this new twist. At least now he knew why Bulma and the police were spending so much time at the office building near 40th Circle—she'd been a member of the dating service. Now that the reporter had blown Bulma's cover, though, he doubted that she'd be going back to Camelot. The man felt a flutter of concern. He might not be able to follow Bulma so easily without her predictable schedule between the office building near 40th Circle and the house in O Street. Of course, he now had the information on the police officer who'd been practically glued to Bulma for the past few weeks. He com­forted himself with the knowledge that he would still be able to keep tabs on her through Detective Vegeta Ouji. It would be risky working so close to the cops, as he'd discovered to his chagrin last night, yet he'd been able to get may easily. He planned on doing it all again very soon.

But first he needed to find out where his sweet prey was hiding.

OOO

North City

Early Sunday afternoon

Bulma woke to a bright, sunny room and the unfamiliar weight of Vegeta's arm around her waist. He lay on his stomach with his eyes closed, so she decided to let him sleep. After last night, he'd certainly earned it. Feeling smug, she crept out of bed and slipped into the shower, letting the hot water pummel her and massage away some of the aches in her body. She finished quickly and was just stepping out and wrapping a towel around herself when Vegeta appeared in the doorway.

"I missed the best part," he said, eyeing her towel. "You should have gotten me up."

She ran her eyes over his gorgeous, naked body. His eyes were a little puffy with sleep, his hair was standing on end in back, and he'd never looked better to her. She smiled at him, undid the knot on her towel, and stepped back into the shower. After she turned the water on, she looked over her shoulder, silently beckoning Vegeta to join her.

They washed each other more times than was necessary, reluctant to give up the pleasure of soapy hands on slick, wet skin. Vegeta insisted on washing her hair, marveling at its length when wet.

"I never would have guessed how long it is," he said, stroking his fingers down to the middle of her back to lather her hair.

"It's the damn curls. One day I swear I'm going to get them straightened."

"Over my dead body. I love these curls. They remind me of how wild you are."

Bulma looked into his hungry dark eyes and shivered, thinking of how they had spent the night. "Enough of that talk, or I'm going to starve to death right in front of you."

His eyelids half lowered as he looked at her from drip­ping hair to wet feet. "I don't want you to lose an ounce. I'll call room service." He stepped out of the shower, wrapped himself in a towel, and left to place the call.

When Bulma walked into the living room several min­utes later, Vegeta was on the balcony, sprawled on an over­size chaise. He looked up and told her room service would he about half an hour, then held out a hand for her to join him on the lounge. Bulma nestled against his side and thought how little she knew about him.

"So how did you decide to be a de­tective?" she asked, curious about the man who had be­come the center of her life.

"After ten years in the special forces, it wasn't exactly like I had a lot of career choices," he said. "I couldn't see myself selling life insurance or something. I was inter­ested in police work, so I went to the academy and got my degree, then took an open position with Goku's depart­ment. We both just gravitated to the Cold Cases Division because the work was challenging. We also get more free­dom in how we handle cases. After pretty much being my own boss my whole life, that was appealing."

"You're very good at what you do."

He shrugged. "So many cases never get solved, and some of them haunt you."

She thought of her own case and wondered if it would be one of those that would haunt him.

"Yours isn't going to be like that," he promised, stroking his hand down her damp hair.

She leaned her head against his shoulder again, then noticed his cell phone sitting on the balcony table.

"I'm surprised Goku hasn't called you yet," she said. Vegeta looked away from her. "I'm not. I turned the phone off last night."

"Why? Don't you want to know what's happening with the investigation?"

"Sure." He looked at the phone like it was a snake. "But if I turn it on, then I'd get a call from my boss chewing out my ass for taking a witness into protective custody with­out authorization. Not to mention getting involved with her in the process."

"It's not like I'm going to turn you in for harassing me." She sat up with a frown. "I don't plan on saying anything. What happens between us is our business, no one else's."

"You won't need to say a word. It's written all over your expressive face." He smiled faintly and stroked a fin­ger down her soft cheek. "Besides, there were plenty of officers around yesterday who saw how things are be­tween us. The word is bound to have gotten back to my boss by now."

"Oh, God, I didn't even think of that. I never wanted you to get in trouble. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

"Shouldn't have what? Shouldn't have been irresistible in me? Don't be ridiculous. I knew exactly what I was do­ing, and I have no regrets. Now it's time to see what the damages are."

Bulma got up to pace while Vegeta turned on the phone and called Goku.

"Where the hell are you? Is everything okay?" Goku demanded without even bothering to say hello.

"We're in a safe place, and we're fine."

"As long as you're not at your place. Remember how I was supposed to have your truck brought over from the station?"

"Yeah," Vegeta said.

"I asked Vera to bring it at the end of her shift. She stopped at the market on the way, and when she was going back to the truck there was a guy standing at the passenger side. She called out to him and he ran away, but when she got to the truck she saw that he'd broken in and gone through the glove box."

"And?" Vegeta knew there was more.

"Your registration is gone."

"Beautiful. Just fucking beautiful," Vegeta said, rubbing his neck. The vehicle registration had his name, home address, and vehicle license plate printed on them. With that information, anyone would be able to easily track his movements.

"There's more," Goku continued. "Vera said she had a feeling she was being followed by a white car after this incident, so she took the long way to Juu's place to be sure. She figured she'd lead the guy right to all the cops parked at the crime scene, but the tail pulled off as she turned onto the main street—like he knew where she was going."

"He's after Bulma again," Vegeta whispered harshly, not wanting her to overhear.

"I'm sure of it. When I left with Chichi in your truck late last night, I picked up a tail about four blocks from Juu's place. I played with him for a while, then pulled down an alley. I got out to confront the guy, but he took off in a white Taurus with no license plates. He was wearing a ball cap and sunglasses."

Vegeta sat pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, trying to think of a way to deal with this dangerous twist. He'd been worried last night that the killer was following Chichi to get to Bulma, but now he realized he could have been the one endangering her all along. He'd used his truck several times to drive Bulma to or from Camelot, or to fol­low her on a date. Clearly the killer had picked up on that.

"You thinking what thinking?" Vegeta asked bitterly.

"Don't beat yourself up, cousin. We both missed it. We underestimated this guy."

"What about Broly?" Vegeta asked.

"He admits he hadn't considered this angle, either. But he still wants your ass for taking off with Bulma last night. Brace yourself---he'll probably yank you off the lead investigator role, though he's too good a cop to pull you from the case completely. He knows you're our best chance."

"He'd be right to fire me, and I know it. I knew it last night and I didn't care. I still don't care, if you want to know the truth."

"Yeah, well, that's not the approach I'd take with him if I were you. You might want to try for a little more grovel­ing and contrition."

Vegeta grimaced and paced on the balcony, but it was too small. He walked into the bedroom and did more circuits while Goku talked.

"There's a press conference at five this afternoon," Goku said. "Captain Broly wants you here for it. I think he's going to throw you to the wolves as part of your punishment."

Vegeta looked at his watch. Only a few hours before he would be separated from Bulma. He wasn't ready for that. But after Captain Broly got through ripping him a new asshole, that was exactly what would happen.

"I'll be there for the conference."

"I'll have Chichi with me at the station," Goku said. "We'll take good care of Bulma for you."

Vegeta disconnected, sat on the bed, and stared into space. He felt Bulma sit next to him on the bed. She ran a hand down the soft cloth of the hotel robe he wore, trying to of­fer comfort without understanding why he was upset.

"Can you talk about it?" she asked.

"The shit is hitting the fan as we speak. We need to get you to the station and then Goku will—" Vegeta broke off and dragged her into his arms, holding her against him and wondering how to explain that they had to be sepa­rated in order to keep her safe.

"It's all right, love." She returned his fierce hug and stroked her hands down his back. "Whatever it is, it's all right."

Vegeta pulled away and sat on an oversized chair be­tween the bed and the window. He rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head down, rubbing his hands tiredly over his eyes. "It's not all right. I've really messed lip, and you're in more danger because of it."

She came over to him. "I don't believe that. Whatever has happened, we'll deal with it together."

Vegeta lifted his head and looked at her, seeing the ab­solute trust in her eyes. "We should leave:' he said, "but I don't want to let go yet. I have a really bad feeling that if I do—" He broke off and shook his head, not wanting to frighten her further.

She didn't know what to say, so she offered comfort with her lips and her hands, bending to kiss Vegeta and stroke the sides of his face. He kissed her back tenderly, then with growing hunger. He pulled her down to him and held her close. His kisses grew more purposeful, and he all but tore her robe off in his sudden desperation to get closer. He undid his own robe, pressing their bodies to­gether from knee to mouth, urgently trying to push aside his fears by loving her one more time. She sensed his turmoil and kissed him harder as he leaned back in the chair and reached for the condoms on the bedside table.

OOO

North City

Late Sunday afternoon

Goku was seated at his desk, but he jumped up when Vegeta and Bulma walked in.

"Any problems?" Goku asked.

"We're clean. No one even tried to follow us."

"Good. I'll take her and Chichi to Zarbon's place in a sedan with tinted windows, and we'll have a couple of unmarked cars ride along behind."

"Where's Chi?" Bulma asked.

"I put her in the conference room. You should go to her before the captain—"

"Ouji!"

Vegeta snapped to attention at the sound of his name be­ing barked out by Captain Broly. Like a man about to face a firing squad, he turned toward his supervisor.

"Sir."

"I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but it stops right here. Do you understand me?" Broly was red-faced as he came to a stop three feet away from Stan,

"Yes," Vegeta said. He'd broken just about every rule there was and would take the fallout without complaint, if only because he'd ended up putting Bulma at risk.

"You're a good investigator, one of the best I've known. But you've lost your objectivity on this case." The captain took a look at Bulma, who was sitting white-faced and miserable at Vegeta's desk.

Vegeta bit his tongue and remembered Goku's advice about groveling. "Yes, sir."

"The only reason I'm not going to fire your ass is, I know this isn't like you. You've never so much as looked sideways at anyone involved in one of your cases. But whatever is going on between you and the witness ends here."

Bulma's head snapped up at this, but she stayed quiet when Goku placed a warning hand on her shoulder.

"As of this moment, I'm pulling you from lead investi­gator role," Broly said. "You are to have no further contact with Ms. Briefs until this case is closed. Is that clear?"

She visibly flinched as Vegeta said, "Yes, sir."

"That's a direct order. It's also for Ms. Briefs' own protection, given that the killer may be using you as a way to find her. I also feel that Ms. Briefs needs to be guarded by someone who is less emotionally involved in the case."

"I would never do anything to endanger her or anyone else on the case," Vegeta said angrily.

"Kami, I know that," the captain said, disgusted. "It's the only reason I haven't kicked your ass off the force for being such a stupid son of a bitch. But that doesn't mean I'm not pulling you. I've already set up another team to take over guard duty. Burke asked to take the lead, and I agreed."

"Thank you, sir," Vegeta said, feeling his knees go weak with relief.

"I'm placing you in charge of forensic evidence and continued background checks of suspects. Burke has agreed to assist you, even if that means working remotely from the safe house," Captain Broly said.

Vegeta looked over at his cousin, knowing that meant Goku had basically agreed to work twenty-four hours a day until the case was solved. He swallowed hard and glanced briefly at Bulma's down-turned head. At least she would be safe with Goku watching over her.

"You and Burke will have two calls a day, once every twelve hours, to update each other and hand off the active parts of the investigation," Broly said. "You'd better catch this guy, and soon. We can't afford a twenty-four seven operation for very long."

Vegeta let out a silent sigh of relief. He was getting off easy, probably because the captain knew Vegeta would be harder on himself than anyone else would be.

"Ms. Briefs and her friend will remain at Zarbon's home in North County under protective custody," Broly said. "Neither one will leave, nor will they discuss their location with anyone. Burke has the details on the rest of the operation and will fill you in." He turned away. "I've got a press conference to set up."

"Captain," Bulma said.

He stopped and met her gaze for the first time.

"I want you to know that it was never my intention to place anyone in a difficult situation," she said. "I asked to be part of this team, and since then Detective Ouji has been a model of professionalism—"

"Oh, yeah? Is that why you have a hickey on your neck?" Captain Broly said.

She flushed to the roots of her hair. The captain looked at her with eyes that had seen everything, but even his cynicism couldn't overlook the tangible connection be­tween Bulma and Vegeta.

"Ms. Briefs," he said, and his voice softened. "I un­derstand that my investigators are human. But they're also officers of the law, and their behavior is held to higher standards than yours. If it were anyone else but Vegeta, I'd have his badge, weapon, and balls—in that order."

"But it's not his fault!"

Broly ignored her and looked at Vegeta. "Five min­utes, Detective. You have the lead in the press conference. Don't fuck it up:'

"Yes, sir."

Broly stalked off.

"Vegeta, I'm so sorry," Bulma said. "I never should have . . ." Thrown myself at you. She glanced sideways at Goku and flushed even more.

"I have to stay," Goku said unhappily. "You're my job, now."

But he stepped back to give them as much privacy as he could in the busy room.

"I shouldn't have made you an offer you couldn't re­fuse," Bulma said miserably, looking down at her clenched hands. "You told me this would happen. You said you could lose your job, but I wasn't thinking about that. I was just thinking about me."

Vegeta sat on his heels in front of her and took her hands in his, waiting until she met his eyes. "Sweetheart, I wouldn't change a single thing about last night or the first night or any of it. When this is over, we're going to have a serious talk about your taste for red wine and seduction, but in the meantime I'm going to live on the memory in the lonely nights to come."

"How can you joke about this?" Bulma asked.

"It's that or start busting furniture:" Vegeta said, squeez­ing her hand.

"But I won't see you until this is over. Who knows how long that will be?"

"It should be very soon now that we know he's trying to follow me."

"But he's dangerous! You could be hurt or—Kami, Vegeta. Why don't you remove yourself from the case entirely? It scares me that the killer is focused on you."

"Better me than you."

She knew she couldn't change his mind. Nor should she continue to try. His job was hard enough without hav­ing to worry about her weeping and clinging to him. Still, she tightened her grip around his hands, painfully aware that she didn't know when she would see him again. She tried to speak, to tell him about the emotions that were shaking her, but her throat closed with the tears she refused to shed in front of him.

"It's going to be all right," he said.

He released one of her hands to cradle her cheek and kiss her gently, sweetly. Her breath came in on a sob, so he kissed her again before forcing himself to stand up. He kept Bulma's hand clutched tightly in his as he pulled her to her feet and turned to face his partner.

"Take good care of her," Vegeta said in a strained voice. He looked at Bulma again.

"You do what Goku says. Be strong, and remember—no regrets."

She nodded. Vegeta brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss into her palm, then turned and walked away.

She watched as he left, feeling lost, scared, and guilty as hell for seducing him.

"Hey," Goku said, putting his arm around her and guid­ing her back to the conference room where Chichi waited.

"Show me some of that ass-kicking spirit all you girls seem to have."

Bulma reached deep inside her for a strength she wasn't sure she had, telling herself that she wouldn't—would not---cry. If Vegeta could crack jokes instead of breaking furniture, she could suck it up and make jokes with the hest of them.

"So does this mean we're partners now?" she asked, her voice husky with the emotions she was suppressing.

"Why the hell not? I've never had a female partner be­fore," Goku said.

"Can I drive the squad car?"

Goku laughed and pretended he didn't notice Bulma's trembling lower lip.

OOO

North City

Tuesday morning

The man sat in his apartment dining room and carefully arranged his breakfast and newspaper before him in what had become a daily ritual. Today he added the noise of the local morning news show. He was looking for updates on the murder investigation, and was sure there would be something in one of the lead stories of the broadcast.

His efficient kitchen was air-conditioned almost to the point of being cold, so the steamy morning outside had no impact on him as he sat in his business suit. His hand was steady as he flipped through the newspaper, looking for any article on the case. Nothing in the main section. He set it carefully aside and forced himself to cut a piece of cantaloupe and eat it before reaching for the metro news section. He turned the pages slowly, then faster, as he found nothing of interest. He finally pushed the newspa­per aside with a controlled motion and switched his atten­tion to the television.

It had been three days since he'd last seen Bulma. He'd been close enough to touch her on Saturday eve­ning but hadn't been able to find her since. Her disappear­ance was starting to make him very angry. He'd come to rely on the feeling of anticipation and pleasure that seeing her gave him. It was so enjoyable that he'd been driven to take the almost crazy risk of delivering a body to Bulma underneath the nose of her police guard. He'd almost gotten caught and knew he had only him­self to blame for it. This is what happened when he broke the rules. There had always been rules, and he'd always followed them. But lately his own rules had bored him, so he'd changed them. First there was that night with the pretty schoolteacher, when he'd chosen a location that was dif­ferent from the others, more public. Because of that, he'd run into the complication of Bulma.

Bulma had ruined everything for him that night, and everything since then. He hadn't even enjoyed killing the whore and stuffing her hair into a blonde wig. It was all Bulma's fault. He spent too much time following her and figuring out how to get her attention without get­ting caught. Dropping a body at her feet had been risky. Speaking directly to her afterward had been undisciplined. And fol­lowing the cop's truck had been just plain stupid. But he'd been desperate to keep tabs on Bulma. Nothing would be right until he killed her. The longer she was out of his sight, the more panicked he felt. He had to find her before somebody noticed how long he'd been gone from his job. Even with his cushy fig­urehead position at his father's company, an unplanned "vacation" that stretched into five weeks would start peo­ple asking questions. When he realized he'd begun to sweat, he used a napkin to wipe his forehead.

Think and plan. Logic and discipline are the only way to make things right. First, he would assess any known threats, then take appropriate steps to neutralize them. Since there were no new stories in the paper, it didn't seem like the police were following any hot leads that might bring them to his door. The man's attention shifted to the television, where the local news was finally broadcasting an update on the mur­der investigations. He listened as the morning anchor re­ported that the police had no new leads, nor had they made any official comments since a press conference on Sunday afternoon.

He sat up in his chair as the footage switched to tape, and he saw the familiar face of the dark-haired cop stand­ing in front of a cluster of microphones. He smiled as the cop's identity was confirmed by the small type at the bot­tom of his television screen.

Detective Vegeta Ouji

The name matched the registration he'd stolen from the truck on Saturday night. He'd thought the cop would lead him straight to Bulma once more, but Detective Ouji had changed the game. The bastard had actually hidden her away somewhere new. That hardly seemed fair. The man considered the problem for a while, running through a number of possibilities and evaluating them based on speed, risk, and magnitude of mess. He finally decided he'd have to take a chance on quick and messy, because he really was running out of time. He looked at his watch and pushed back from the table decisively. He'd have to hurry to be on time for his ap­pointment at Camelot this afternoon.

OOO

North City

Tuesday afternoon

"Your noon appointment is here," Juu's recep­tionist said.

Juu glanced up from the work she was doing on the database and rubbed her forehead.

"Isn't it Friday yet? Or at least time to go home?"

"Sorry, it's only Tuesday. Do you want me to have your appointment wait in the conference room?"

"No, show him back here." She stood and stretched her tight muscles. Since the newspaper had run the story about the murders and linked Camelot's name to the case, she'd been buried in calls. More new clients had come in during the last two days than in the previous month.

A tall, dark-haired man stepped into her office, and she walked around the desk to greet him. "Mr. Thompson, I'm Juu Gero, owner of Camelot."

"Please, call me Jake. I'm not much on formality." The man smiled at her briefly, then took the seat she indicated. "How can I help you?" Juu asked.

"Well, it's a little embarrassing, but I've just moved here and I've been having a lot of trouble meeting women. I thought about joining a matchmaking agency to jump- start the process. I'm an engineer, so of course I felt the need to research all the dating services in the area. I'm currently in the middle of interviewing their owners to find the one that best suits me, but I'm getting a little anx­ious for results."

"I'd be happy to answer any questions you might have about Camelot."

"How long have you owned the business?"

Juu hesitated. "I inherited it from my sister when she died a few months ago."

"Oh. Well, you seem very organized. What I'd really like to do is take a look through your list of eligible candidates," Jake said. "I'd like to see the caliber of woman your service attracts before I commit myself to membership."

"I can certainly understand that. However, we've re­cently implemented new security policies, and only mem­bers are allowed to review the catalogues."

"None of the other agencies had any problems giving me a quick peek." The man raised an eyebrow. His dark eyes watched for any signs of flexibility.

"I'm sorry. With all the publicity the whole dating ser­vice industry has had in the city, I have no choice but to ., enforce the rules."

"Yes, I recall reading something in the paper the other day." Jake leaned forward, as if to invite her confidences. "Is Camelot under investigation or something?"

"Absolutely not. We've done everything we can to assist the police, even though it hasn't helped any. But the whole affair has underlined the importance of having firm security policies."

"Yes," he said, "I suppose you can never be too careful."

"We're a very thorough company," Juu said. "Your satisfaction is our goal. If you join the service and for any reason are not happy with the female clients in our cata­logue, we'll gladly refund your money."

"All right, you've convinced me." He reached into his coat pocket for his billfold. "I'll pay for the membership right now."

"Wonderful. I just need to have you fill out this ques­tionnaire, including some of your personal information. Once we get a routine background check done, you'll be able to go through our catalogue and contact any of the ladies listed there."

Jake put his billfold back. "Questionnaire? Back­ground check? How long does this whole process take?"

"Usually about three days."

"But I don't have that much time. I have a dinner party at my vice president's home tomorrow night. If I don't come with a date—" The man broke off and winced.

"I'm really sorry. We could possibly expedite the back­ground check, but we couldn't get it back before tomor­row night."

He shrugged sheepishly. "I guess I put things off too long. Isn't there any way around this little glitch?"

"I don't see how," Juu said regretfully.

"Even if it means losing business'?" The man's smile in­vited her to understand that a background check really wasn't necessary in his case.

"I'm afraid so. I wish there were some way I could help you."

"It's my fault for letting things go so late." Jake stood and walked out of the office without letting his feel­ings show.

While he hadn't been able to verify that Bulma was a member, at least he'd learned the dating service hadn't been able to provide the police with any concrete information for the investigation. Hopefully the attention would shift away from Juu Gero's company en­tirely. Even if it didn't, the only person who might have tipped off the police about his link to Camelot was dead.

Now, finally, it was time to find where his sweet prey was hiding.

* * *

A/N: I'm very sorry for the long wait. I could tell you all that has happened but it would be a longer story than this one and well I don't want to bore you. Let me just summaries it with Married Life got in the way. LOL! Anyways hope you like it, if you find errors just let me know or just ignore them. Well nothing more to say but you know the drill, 5 reviews gets you a new chapter. 

P.S. Also before I forget this story is coming to its end. Yes, I am sorry to say it but I think it will take around two chapters, I THINK. I will let you know, don't worry.

Laters and love y'all


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

* * *

North County

Wednesday morning

Goku was in the kitchen of the safe house, reviewing his computer files of the three suspects Vegeta had looked from hundreds of possibilities in a three-day work marathon. Vegeta was interviewing one of them this morning. The other two were slated for the afternoon-assuming Vegeta stayed awake that long. When the portable phone rang, Goku picked it up quickly and looked at the caller ID. Vegeta's home number appeared in the display.

"I wanted to pass the updates along before I try to catch a few hours of sleep," Vegeta said, yawning.

"Did you just get home?"

"Yeah, I had an interview at the station with suspect number one. No go on him. He's got an airtight alibi for the night of Renata Mendes's murder. It was his birthday, and he was with a group of friends from work until after two in the morning."

"Several of the friends confirmed?" Goku asked.

"Yes, damn it. Anyway, I've already scheduled inter­views for suspects two and three this afternoon. Can you make it into the station to do those, or do you want me to go back?"

"I'll do it. You've been working straight through since you turned Bulma over to me. You'll do something stupid if you don't get some sleep."

Vegeta had promised himself he wouldn't ask, but he couldn't stop himself. "How is she?" He hadn't talked to her, afraid that it would just upset her even more, and him as well.

Goku smiled. "She's amazing. That's a very strong woman you've got, partner. I can see the strain is wearing on her, but she kicked my ass at Hearts until three this morning."

"That's my girl," Vegeta said.

"Yeah, well just don't ever play cards with her for money. I think I owe her my next three paychecks."

"Is she sleeping now?"

"Like an angel, which is a clear case of fraud in adver­tising."

Vegeta chuckled despite his exhaustion. "Who's doing inside surveillance while you're at the station?"

"I'll bring in the officer parked out on the street. During daylight hours we should be okay with one mobile guy se­curing a perimeter around the house."

"Sounds good, as long as there's plenty of activity in the neighborhood during the day."

"Kids, soccer moms, gardeners and dogs. They should be fine. Captain Broly approved it rather than assign another body to the case."

"Okay, I'm going to catch a few hours of sleep. If one of the interviews looks hot, wake me up. Otherwise call you after you get back to the house tonight."

Vegeta disconnected and went facedown on his bed, sleeping for the first time since he'd been separated from Bulma.

000

"Fine, sir. I was surprised to get your call last night, but I'm happy to do what I can to help."

"Why don't you call me Yamcha, okay? All my friends do." He stepped into the apartment and shut the door.

"Urn, sure, Yamcha. Let's go over to the computer room."

The man looked around and found the usual squalor of an apartment occupied by a single male in his mid-twenties. He knew Uub was paid a good salary for his computer consulting at Tillman Brothers Software, but it was difficult to tell from the ratty furniture and lack of decorations. As they entered a second bedroom, Yamcha saw where Uub's paychecks had been going. A huge sound system took up much of one wall, and the computer equipment that filled the remainder of the room required three sepa­rate desks to hold everything. He'd clearly picked exactly the right techno-geek to assist him.

"Listen, Uub. I want to thank you again for agreeing to miss work this morning to help me with my personal problem. You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"No, you said you wanted it private," Uub replied. "You're the boss."

"Actually, my father is, but I appreciate your help. As I mentioned, the situation is extremely . . . delicate. I'm go­ing to rely on both your technical skills and your discretion."

Uub puffed up a bit. "Sure. What do you need me to do?"

"Well, the whole thing is quite distasteful, really. But I'm pretty certain my girlfriend is cheating on me with a certain ex-boyfriend. She's always talking to someone on the phone, then she hangs up when I come in the room. She's tried to hide it, but a man just knows these things. I'm sure you understand."

Uub didn't understand any such thing, since the only relationship he'd ever had was with his computer. But he nodded manfully and tried to look knowledgeable and sympathetic.

"I have this guy's name and address," Yamcha continued. "What I'd like to do is have you, urn, look into his phone records and see who he's been calling. I'm sure my girl­friend's number will be on the list. Then I'll have the proof I need to confront her."

"Phone records, huh? That's illegal, you know." Uub was eager to show off his hacking skills, but wanted to make sure his boss's son knew what was involved.

The man shrugged and tried to look sheepish. Beneath the sunglasses that he had yet to remove, his dark eyes were as cold as his voice was warmly understanding. "I know it's probably a little uncomfortable for you to do this, but I just don't know of anyone else with your tech­nical abilities. I hate to ask, but I'm in a desperate situa­tion here. And I'll be happy to pay for the inconvenience."

"No problem." Uub sat down at one of the computer screens. "Getting into phone records is a bit time-consuming, but not all that difficult. You just have to be careful not to leave any tracks behind, you know?"

"Yes, I know all about cleaning up after oneself. I as­sume you have the skills to do that?"

"Piece of cake. What's this guy's name and number?"

"His name is Vegeta Ouji. I don't have his number, but I do have an address for him."

The man read off the ad­dress and watched the nerd get to work. The next quarter hour passed with Uub muttering to himself and typing furiously. Occasionally he would stop and jot down something on a yellow pad next to his computer.

"Hmmm. Unlisted number, but that shouldn't be a big problem," Uub said to himself and opened another win­dow on his screen.

The man stood motionless during the whole process, his heart pounding. He was so close he could taste it.

"Got it! Here we are." Uub magnified the size of the type on the screen and turned around triumphantly.

The man stepped forward to read over the geek's shoul­der. The screen showed a list of calls, including the phone number and duration of the calls that originated from Ouji's home telephone number.

Starting last Sunday, the day after Bulma had dis­appeared, the cop made two calls a day to a number in North County. Every day, like clockwork, morning and evening. It had to be connected to Bulma and her current location. He was close, so close. Yamcha tried to disguise his eagerness, aware the geek was looking at him. He had to be really careful here. He reached out with a steady hand and pointed to the number in North County.

"That number there," he said. "It might belong to my girlfriend's best friend. It would be just like that bitch to cover for her. Can you get me a name and address to go with it?"

"Sure. You don't even need to hack for that. Lots of websites let you do reverse number searches." Uub pulled up a browser window and selected a website. He typed in the information and hit send, and a reply came back within thirty seconds.

"That number is registered to Zarbon Adams at three twenty-three Myrtle Lane."

"Damn. I don't recognize that name. But my girlfriend's friend just got married. Can we find out who this Zarbon is and see if he's connected somehow?"

"Sure, I'll just run a search on Adams and see what kind of hits we come up with," Uub said, typing rapidly.

A few moments later, Uub shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Seems Zarbon Adams is a detective with the N.C.P.D."

Yamcha smacked his forehead. "How could I have forgot­ten. The girlfriend married a cop a few months ago. She must not be on the phone listing yet." He spoke automati­cally, while his mind changed gears as he processed this new information.

"Is there anything else you need today?" Uub asked. "I'm in the middle of something online."

Tillman had already memorized the address, so he stepped away from the screen. "Would you mind printing it out for me? I'm going to hire a private detective to see if my girlfriend has been using this house for her little affair?'

"Sure thing." Uub typed in the command, and then waited as the printer began to warm up. He took the op­portunity to check his own work e-mail. "I can send you the whole file if you want."

Tillman thought about the rubber gloves in a pocket of his shorts, but he was afraid that even Uub would notice if his unexpected guest snapped on gloves. With a mental shrug, Tillman pulled a gun out of his shorts and grabbed a cushion off the floor to muffle the shots and keep the gore off of him.

"That won't be necessary," he said and fired into the back of Uub's head. He set the cushion aside, put the gun back in his waistband, and pulled on the rubber gloves. He looked at the blood splattered over the computer monitor and keyboard, and decided to shut off the machine manu­ally rather than power the system down properly and risk getting bloody.

Watching where he stepped, he saw that the printer still hadn't processed the earlier request. Impatient at the de­lay, he reached behind the unit and unplugged it from the wall. His memory was as good as, and certainly faster than, the printer. From there he went to the nerd's closet, frowned at the clothes, and pulled a wrinkled button-down shirt over his bloodstained T-shirt. As he checked his appearance in a mirror, he hummed quietly.

'_Tonight Bulma would be his.'_

North City

Wednesday, late afternoon

Vegeta stepped into the offices of Camelot and tried not to think of how many times he had seen Bulma there, and how much he missed seeing her now. Nor was he likely to be seeing her soon—his three hot suspects hadn't worked out. One of them had been overseas. The other had a broken foot that was still in a cast.

"Thank you for letting me disrupt your work schedule and agreeing to stay late," Vegeta told Juu.

"No problem. Mom has the boys and she'll keep them all night if necessary." Juu tilted her head and studied the detective's tired features. "Things aren't going well."

"There has to be some clue here that we've over­looked," Vegeta said. "This is where it all started, so this is where I'm going to start all over again."

"Any particular place you want to begin?"

"Remember how we agreed to eliminate the male clients who had been entered in the database after the night of the murder?"

Juu nodded. "Yes, because Bulma felt she'd seen the killer's picture in our database the night the murder took place."

"We've been through all the names of men who were members before the murder, and we don't have anything useful. Now I want to go through the rest of the clients."

Juu looked doubtful. "All right."

"Goku is at the station right now," Vegeta said, knowing how lame his idea sounded. Lame or not, he just knew they must have overlooked something, and this was the most obvious placers start. "He's waiting for us to fax him over a list of the remaining names in the catalogue., He'll run them through the computer. I'll compare photos with sketches the department artist drew based on Bulma's description of the man she saw in the backyard of your house."

Juu went to her computer. "I'll print a list of names sorted by date of membership initiation. Do you want pic­tures, too?"

"Yes, but send Goku the text list first and do the photos separately."

Within five minutes, she had a list of male clients who had signed up since the night of the murder. She handed the printout to Vegeta, who scanned it quickly.

"That's almost a hundred more than there were the last time we checked," he said. "Do you normally get this many new clients within a couple of weeks?"

"No. It's the publicity from that news story. Last week we were swamped with inquiries and new members. It's ghoulish if you ask me. Give me Goku's fax number and I'll send the names. The photos are up on my computer."

Vegeta wrote Goku's number across the top of the list and went to Juu's desk. He stacked the files he'd brought in alphabetical order across the desk. After a few minutes of flipping back and forth on his own files and on the screen, comparing faces with sketches, he made a frustrated sound. "Do you have a room with more table space and network access?"

"Let's go to the conference room down the hall-It seats about ten, and it has a computer that can run the catalogue database."

Vegeta gathered files, followed Juu down the hall, and set his papers in orderly piles on the big table. She went to the computer at the head of the table and turned it on.

"This will take a few minutes," Juu said.

Vegeta stifled his impatience and stuffed his hands in his pockets, then began to pace the room. Outside the win­dow, the sun was setting in a blaze of summer color. He glanced back at Juu, who was still waiting for the data­base to come up. Cursing technology, he resumed his pac­ing of the room.

As he walked around, he noticed that there were framed photos hung on every wall in the room. He stepped closer to examine the nearest ones, and then slowly made his way down the entire wall. Studying the photos of happy, smil­ing people hoisting drinks or making silly faces, he felt a sudden clenching in his gut. He turned and went down the next wall. More pictures of people, sometimes alone, sometimes in groups. They were all dressed in professional clothes and seemed to be having a good time. Juu watched while Vegeta walked purposefully around the room, staring intently at the pictures that were hung on the walls.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

He whipped his head around, jolted out of his concen­tration. "Are these all Camelot members?" He pointed to the framed photos.

"Not necessarily. The pictures were taken at the corpo­rate mixers my sister used to host."

"So, for example, the men in this group here," Vegeta pointed at a picture. "Aren't necessarily in Camelot's catalogue?"

Juu came over to study the picture herself. "No. See the photo next to it? That's my sister, and the two men standing with her are executives at a high-tech company that folded a couple of months ago. The executives were never members, but they hosted singles parties for their employees. Some of the workers later joined Camelot, but not all of them."

"Was Bulma ever in this room?" Vegeta asked.

"Yes. This is the room we generally use for the client's first visit and review of the catalogue. It's much easier to spread out here than in my office."

"When was she in here?"

"It must have been—" Juu gasped and looked at Vegeta, who had already put the pieces together. "Oh my God. It was on the night Renata Mendes was murdered. Bulma spent several hours in this room with me, going over the questionnaire and photos."

"The killer was never in the catalogue," Vegeta said. "God damn it. We've been chasing our tails for weeks, and he's been here all along." He turned to Juu. "I need to identify the men in every picture hanging in this room, and any other place in the offices where Bulma might have been."

"Most of the pictures have the names printed at the bot­tom, or they have labels taped to the back. You read them to me and I'll start a list right now," Juu said, sitting at the computer.

"Okay. At the same time, we'll cross-reference that list with the catalogue, and eliminate anyone who is a Camelot client and has already been investigated. After that, we'll get Goku to expedite a background check on the remaining names of non-members."

Vegeta walked around the room, removing pictures and reading names to Juu, who typed them into the computer. Anyone who was a member had a flag placed on his file in case they needed to return to him in the future. When they came across a man who was not a client, his name was en­tered on the new short list of suspects. Then Vegeta placed the picture on the table and went to the next photo. It took almost half an hour to enter all the names into the computer.

"Okay, now we're sure this new suspect list includes only names that were not in the Camelot database?" Vegeta asked.

"Yes," Juu said. "We've got twenty-seven men who appear in photos in this room but were never investigated as Camelot clients."

"Let's get this list to Goku and cross our fingers." Vegeta picked up his cell phone and called his partner.

Goku answered on the fourth ring.

"It's Vegeta. We fucked up big time, buddy." He quickly explained about the photos in the conference room and the list of twenty-seven men they had compiled.

"Shit," Goku said. "Shit. How did we miss that?"

"It doesn't matter. We caught it now. I just faxed the names over to you."

"I've got it," Goku said as someone handed him a fax marked URGENT. "I'll drop everything and get right on the new list."

"How long do you think it will take?"

"I'll pull in some of the other guys, but it will be at least an hour for a prelim check. Sit tight, partner. We'll get the bastard."

"I'll be here with Juu, running through the rest of the names and double-checking "

Goku hung up, then quickly dialed the number of the safe house. He started speaking as soon as the officer picked up.

"Diaz, its Son. I want you to stay with Bulma and Chichi for a couple of hours. We've had a big break, and I'm needed here at the precinct to follow this lead."

"No problem. I'll let Brown know he's in charge of se­curing the perimeter alone until further notice."

"Right. If you need anything, you've got my cell. Don't tell the women yet. I don't want to get their hopes up," Goku said, then hung up.

He rushed into the room that housed the computer in­vestigators, or the techno-nerds, as they were more or less affectionately known. The four people on duty were already checking through the list of names Goku had given them.

"Everybody, drop what you're doing and listen up. I've got a new list with twenty-seven names. These individu­als have never been checked, and there's a strong possi­bility our killer is among them. We'll divide the names among you, then I'll take the extras and use the spare ter­minal over on the end."

There was some good-natured grumbling, but everyone closed files and waited to receive the new names. Goku took the last names for himself, then sat down at a com­puter and began to run his searches. He wasn't nearly as fast as the others, but he was thorough.

Half an hour later, one of the technicians called him over.

"I've got a sealed juvenile record here. Thought you might want to take it and run. It was a N.C.P.D. arrest, so you should be able to dig around without too much trou­ble. The guy was even fingerprinted."

Goku ripped the papers from the printer tray. "Yamcha Tillman. Fancy name. Any relation to Tillman Brothers Software?"

The technician typed briefly, then grinned at Goku. "He's a vice president and holds a seat on the board. His father, Gerald Tillman, is the president and CEO."

"A spoiled rich boy with a sealed juvenile record," Goku said gleefully. "Would your wife mind if I kissed you, Tom?"

"Get away from me, Son."

Goku laughed and waved the papers triumphantly. "I'm going down to Latent to see if we can do anything with the fingerprints taken from Tillman at the time of his arrest. Could you do some more digging and find out who the investigating officer was?"

"As long as you don't come near me," the technician yelled after Goku's retreating back.

North City

Wednesday evening

Juu paced around the conference table, stopping occasionally to sift through the framed photos and criticize herself for not putting the pieces together sooner. "It's been so long since I even looked at these pictures. They were all taken before my sister died, be­fore I was involved with Camelot. Still, I should have thought of it."

"It's okay," Vegeta said. "We all assumed Bulma had seen the guy in the catalogue. And you know what they say about assumption."

"No, what?"

"It's the mother of all fuckups." He laid the police artist's sketch alongside the photos of several men. He moved down the table, comparing the drawing with the pictures, until he found one with a superficial resemblance.

Juu looked at the sketch, then at the photo, and frowned. "Other than the smile, I don't see much similarity."

Vegeta grunted.

She studied the picture Vegeta had selected. From the date, the photo had been taken at a corporate mixer a year ago. It featured a man in a business suit with a bored smile holding up his drink and wryly saluting the photographer.

"I think I've seen that man before," she muttered.

"You've been in the conference room a lot."

"No, I meant more recently." She flipped the picture over and read the caption, hoping it would jog her memory. "Yamcha Tillman, Vice President of Marketing at Tillman Brothers Software, comes along to offer moral support at his company's first meet and greet party." She frowned over the name, then turned the frame to look at the photo again. "I think he was in the office not long ago, but he didn't use the name Yamcha Tillman."

"Are you sure?" Vegeta asked.

"Absolutely. I would have remembered, because the Tillman's—father and son—are executives with Tillman Brothers Software. The company was one of my sister's biggest clients, so I would have paid special attention if I'd seen their name in my appointment book."

"Did you ever meet him or his father?"

"No. They ended the contract before I moved here. But I know I've met this man before. And his name wasn't Yamcha Tillman."

"Do you remember where you met him, and why?"

"We met here—recently. He wanted to join Camelot right away, but only if he could look through the catalogue first. Basically, he wanted to see if the women were worth paying to date."

Vegeta looked up. "Did you show him the catalogue?"

"No, it's strictly against our new policy. I told him he'd have to fill out a questionnaire and wait for a background check before he saw our female clients."

"Did he fill out a questionnaire?"

Juu shook her head. "He tried to pressure me to change the rules for him, but I wouldn't. So he put away his wallet and walked out."

"Did he say why he chose your dating service?"

"He must have read the name in the papers, because he asked about the police investigation."

Vegeta went still. "What name did this guy use?"

"I don't know, I'd have to check my calendar."

She hurried down the hall toward her office, with Vegeta following close behind. When she opened her computer calendar and ran through the appointments for the last week, he was leaning over her shoulder.

"There it is. Tuesday. Initial consultation with Jake Thompson," she said.

"Tillman, Thompson. It could be he was trying to hide his identity. Did he act embarrassed to be signing up with a dating service?"

Juu shook her head. "Too arrogant. Too confident, as well."

"Okay. Have Goku check out Jake Thompson and Yamcha Tillman as a priority." Vegeta shook his head in disgust at the work that would go into following up this new angle. "There have to be ten thousand Jake Thompson's in this country. We'll start with driver's license photos of the ones who are geographically close to N.C. and see what happens."

"I have a better idea," Juu said. "Follow me."

He hesitated, then went down the hall with her to a place that looked like some kind of equipment room.

"After the murder investigation started," Juu said, "and especially once a question had been raised about some clients, I had my IT manager set up a hidden digital camera in the reception area. We should have a photo­graph of everyone who stopped at the desk and signed in."

"You're shitting me."

She grinned. "No. My IT manager said it would be easy to store the photos short term, as long as we didn't accu­mulate too many of them. Didn't want to use up his pre­cious disk space. I'll call him and ask where the files are saved. Vegeta handed Juu his cell phone, then waited as she called her technician and got instructions on how to call up the files on the server.

"Okay," she said. "Here's last week, so it should be un­der the folder marked Tuesday."

They clicked through the photos in silence, pausing when they reached Juu's noon appointment. Vegeta held up the framed picture he had brought from the conference room and compared it with the grainy digital image on the screen in front of him. Then he compared it to the sketched image of the man who had threatened Bulma in Juu's backyard.

'_Gotcha, you smug bastard. You took one risk too many, and now you're mine.'_

"I'll need a copy of this digital photo to send to the lab," Vegeta said, looking at the computer. "Then we'll just pick up Mr. Thompson and ask him a few questions."

Vegeta took back his cell phone and dialed his partner's number.

"Goku, rush the background check on Yamcha Tillman. He had a meeting at Camelot last week, tried to look at the catalogue. He was using the alias Jake Thompson. I've compared photos of the two and they look good."

"Hell, Vegeta, are you reading minds now?" Goku asked.

"What have you got?"

"Yamcha Tillman has a juvenile record. I just put in a call to the lead investigator on the case."

"Was it a violent offense?" Vegeta asked.

"Looks like it. Reading between the lines of the closed case file, aggravated assault charges were initially brought against him, but they were later bumped down af­ter the victim and main witness boarded a plane and re­turned to Costa Alegre. She'd been working as a maid and cook in the home of Gerald Tillman, the father."

"Hispanic female, mid-twenties," Vegeta said, thinking of the string of murder victims.

"Shit, I hadn't thought of that. We can verify with the lead investigator. I'm guessing that Yamcha's daddy man­aged to get the charges pleaded down to harassment, and got his son enrolled in court-ordered counseling. But not before the little bastard was booked and fingerprinted."

"You've got prints on file?" Vegeta asked sharply.

"I'm in the Latent Fingerprints lab right now. The tech­nician is doing a quick search of prints from the crime scenes we've linked to the killer and comparing them to Yamcha Tillman. I've asked the technician to expedite manual verifications of any computer matches on the prints."

"We need to run a location check on Mr. Tillman, as well," Vegeta said.

"I called both his legal addresses already. The first is his father's estate, where a housekeeper answered and said the son had been in West Beaches for the last month or so. The second number is an upscale apartment complex in South County. No answer." Goku paused as the fingerprint technician came rushing over. "Hang on a sec, Vegeta. We might have something."

The technician waved the enlarged fingerprint she was holding. "I ran a second computer check of Tillman's prints against all known fingerprints in the system, hi ad­dition to the ones from the crime scenes you requested," she said. "The computer showed a potential match be­tween the old Tillman prints and a partial that was recov­ered at a homicide in Northwest N.C. today. I've done a manual verification, and it looks solid to me."

"Nina, you're beautiful," Goku said. "Who's the inves­tigating detective on the N.C. homicide?"

"Freeza Gray,"

Goku picked up his cell phone again and raced down the hall. As he did, he explained to Vegeta about the poten­tial match. "I'm going to hang up and call you on my desk phone, then conference in Gray. I'd be very interested to see what Yamcha Tillman was doing at this dead guy's apartment."

"I'll be right here with Juu," Vegeta said. "Call me."

Vegeta hung up, looked over at Juu, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Stop beating yourself up. You did great."

"Really?"

"Really. Thanks to you, we'll nail the little shit."

North County

Wednesday night

The man sat quietly behind a lilac bush, waiting for the police officer to make his six-minute circuit of the property where Bulma was staying. The officer con­stantly kept moving and checked in regularly via his ra­dio. Presumably he was checking in with his partner in the house, or possibly one of the dispatchers. It would make the timing of this operation critical, be­cause he'd have to strike as soon as possible after one of these brief radio conversations. That would buy him the maximum amount of time to get into the house and get Bulma before the alarm went out. He was confident he could get to her in the short time he would have. He'd spent most of the morning and all of the afternoon watching the house, and he already knew which room belonged to Bulma. Although the cur­tains had been closed, he'd seen her silhouette as she sat by the window. That curled hair of hers gave a very distinc­tive profile.

Things were running smoothly so far. The only possible glitch was the fact that the roving police officer was wearing body armor. That would make his usual method of attack impossible, because the knife wouldn't pene­trate a bullet-proof vest. He wasn't eager to try to slit the officer's throat-even if he managed it, the result would be too messy. In addition he risked losing the element of surprise, because he wasn't sure he could get the job done on the first pass. He was used to being much stronger than his victims. He supposed he could use his gun, but the noise would be unmistakable. He'd brought it along to ensure Bulma's cooperation, not to start shooting people-at least until he had her and both officers under control. Then he would use whatever he wanted, knife or gun or both together. The idea made him smile, even though it was another departure from the script he had laid out in his mind.

'_It's a good thing I react quickly under pressure and can improvise,'_ Tillman told himself.

The properties in this neighborhood were large and had dense vegetation, which would be to his advantage. And the ground was damp and covered with a layer of fallen leaves, which would muffle his approach. He picked up one of the large landscaping stones that formed a border around the bush where be was hiding. Tillman hefted the weight of the rock in his hands and ran through what he would do several times. Then he checked his watch and waited in the dark for his chance.

Forty seconds later, the cop walked by on his umpteenth circuit of the property. He didn't notice the additional shadow in the bushes. Tillman rose up and smashed the rock into the back of the officer's head with both hands. The cop went down and stayed there, motionless. Tillman crushed the police radio under his foot and threw the officer's weapon deep into the bushes. Then he hit the man again several times for good measure.

With the first part of his mission accomplished, Tillman crept slowly toward the house.

North City

Wednesday night

Vegeta pounced on his cell phone when it rang. "Goku?"

"Yeah. I've got Gray on the line, and he was just about to tell me about the homicide case that came across his desk today. Go ahead, Freeza."

"We had a call this afternoon after some computer con­sultant didn't make it in to work," Gray said in a grav­elly voice. "Seems our caller and the consultant were in the middle of some computer game and he was impatient to get on with it. Anyway, the guy went over to the consul­tant's apartment after lunch and found the body."

"And?" Vegeta asked impatiently.

"I'm getting there. The consultant-a kid, really-had been shot in the back of the head as he sat at his computer, so the place was a mess. But he did have a shit load of high-tech equipment and his friend hinted the kid might have been a semi-pro hacker who pissed off a customer."

Vegeta told himself to be patient. Gray was one of those people who told a story in his own way and at his own snail's pace. Pushing him just made him go slower.

"Who did he do his hacking for?" Vegeta asked.

"No idea. But he collected a paycheck from Tillman Brothers Software."

"Bingo," Vegeta said softly.

"Told you I'd get there," Gray retorted. "So imagine my surprise when Son called me with a match for the partial print we got off a monitor in the victim's apart­ment, and it belonged to none other than a VP at Tillman Brothers Software."

"It could be coincidence," Vegeta said. "Tillman might have an explanation for being there. He was the kid's boss, after all. And the guy who's after Bulma uses a knife and only kills women."

"I'd still like to talk to him," Gray said. "I've had the computer technicians here going over the victim's equip­ment since we brought it in. I figure if the kid was a hacker, whatever he was last working on might have something to do with why he was killed."

"So what was he doing?" Goku asked.

"The computer and printer had both been shut down improperly, so my guys are working on getting stuff from document recovery or some such thing. According to the browser history, the kid had been on a web page that enables reverse phone number searches. You know, getting the address and name when you only have a phone number?"

Vegeta didn't like that at all. "Any record of who he was looking up?"

"We couldn't tell until we powered up the printer. The techie here is a genius, and he managed to pull the last print job from the buffer memory thing, or whatever the hell it's called. Hang on, I've got a copy of it in the file." Gray made rustling sounds as he flipped through the papers on his desk. "Here it is. The document isn't much—just an address. Three two three Myrtle Lane, in North County."

"Kami. That's our safe house." Vegeta's hand clenched tightly around the phone. He heard Goku drop­ping Gray off the conference with a promise to get back in touch soon.

"I'm less than ten minutes from there," Goku said to Vegeta. "I'll go."

"Damn it, I—" Vegeta stopped, knowing his partner was right. Vegeta was half an hour away, and he didn't have a unit with lights and siren. "I'll call Diaz and have him put the women in a secure upstairs room until you arrive. Call me on my cell the instant you get there."

"I'm gone," Goku said and hung up. He raced down the hall, shouting at people to get out of his way.

Vegeta wanted to keep his cell phone line open, so he ran back to Juu's office.

She took one look at his pale, grim face and said, "What's wrong? Is Bulma all right?"

Vegeta held up a hand to keep Juu quiet while he dialed the safe house's number on Juu's desk phone. He got Officer Diaz on the line within one ring.

"Where are the women right now?" Vegeta asked.

"Upstairs playing cards."

"Secure the house and get up there with them. The killer has your location."

"What! How in—"

"It doesn't matter," Vegeta cut in "Son is on his way right now. I want you to move the women into the upstairs room with the best locks and most limited access."

"The master bathroom," Diaz said instantly. "There's only a small window and two doors to protect."

"Good. Get them in there. Tell Brown to be extra care­ful on his foot patrol."

"You got it." Vegeta hung up the phone and looked at his watch, count­ing off the minutes, and willing his cousin to call.

North County

Wednesday night

"Gin," Chichi said. She laid down her winning hand and grinned at Bulma triumphantly.

"That's what, ten times in a row? We're going to have to handicap you." Bulma tallied up the points on a note­pad. "Wait until Goku gets here, then I'll win some of my money back."

She looked up as the phone rang, then froze. A man was standing near the doorway behind Chichi, pointing a gun at her head. Chichi paused as she shuffled the cards, wondering at Bulma's sudden silence. She looked at her friend's ashen face and rigid posture, and realized something was very wrong. She jolted when a strange voice spoke from be­hind her.

"Hello, Bulma. You aren't going to do anything stupid, like call for help, are you? Because if you do, I'll blow your friend's pretty little head away. Do we under stand each other?"

Bulma nodded numbly

"Don't move," Tillman said to Chichi. "Bulma, come over and stand next to me."

Bulma stood and wiped her clammy hands down the front of her jeans. She moved slowly to stand next to the man who was holding a gun on her best friend. He was tall, probably just over six feet. He had short dark hair and brown eyes, but other than that she didn't notice any­thing outstanding about his features. Nor did he trigger any memories of the night she had run for her life. Yet she knew this was the man who meant to kill her.

"Excellent," he said. "You're being very cooperative this time." He shifted the gun to his left hand and pulled a knife from inside his dark jacket. In a heartbeat he had his hand wrapped around Bulma's neck and was holding the knife to the tender side of her throat. The gun stayed trained on Chichi.

"Okay. Now it's your turn. You can help with the cop downstairs. Come stand over here, to my left, about six feet away from me. Don't make any sudden moves, or I'll cut Bulma's throat and kill you before she hits the floor."

Chichi stood slowly and did as she was instructed. Downstairs Bulma heard Diaz moving around the ground floor quickly. Windows closed noisily and the front door banged shut, followed by the sound of the dead bolt slam­ming into place.

'_A little late for that,'_ she thought bitterly.

Tillman flinched when Officer Diaz called from down­stairs.

"Bulma! Chichi! Which room are you in?"

"Answer him," Tillman said "Tell him where you are, nothing more."

Chichi spoke, but only a hoarse sound came out. She closed her eyes, cleared her throat, and tried again. "We're up here, in Bulma's bedroom."

"Stay there. I'll be right up," Diaz said, still locking everything downstairs.

"Now be quiet," Tillman said to Chichi, tightening his grip on Bulma. He had to think and think fast.

Chichi's eyes moved toward Bulma's. Both women knew they had to get away somehow, and to do that they would have to work together. Thinking frantically, Bulma looked around the room, then she motioned with a hand at her waist toward the open bathroom door behind Chichi. She prayed the man holding a gun on Chichi wouldn't be able to see the faint movement. Chichi blinked her understanding without turning her head, thinking the same thing Bulma was escape.

The bathroom sat between the two smaller upstairs bedrooms, and it was connected to each by a heavy wooden door. While a gun and knife stood between them and the hall door, if the women could get to the bathroom, they would have another way out. Both froze at the sound of footsteps on the back porch. Bulma could hear Diaz calling out to his partner on the ra­dio, then using his voice alone.

Bulma motioned to Chichi with her hand again, this time pointing at herself. Then she pointed at the hallway. For emphasis, she once again pointed at Chichi and the bath­room door, willing her to understand that Bulma would go for the hall door, while Chichi should go toward the bath­room, through it, and into the master bedroom, where there was a door to the hallway. Chichi bit her lip, not liking the idea of splitting up. But it was their best chance of dividing the killer's attention, so she blinked again in agreement.

The man holding Bulma tensed as he heard heavy foot­steps on the old wooden stairs of the house. Officer Diaz called out as he made his way up to them. She watched in horror as the man moved his gun away from Chichi's head and aimed instead at the doorway.

She realized that he was going to kill the officer, and probably Chichi as well. Their best chance for escape would be when the officer came through the doorway, dis­tracting the killer. She wanted to cry out a warning to Diaz, to tell him of the danger, but she was very aware of the knife resting against her throat and the fact that the killer's gun could be pointed back to Chichi before the first word of warning left Bulma's mouth. But then she thought of Vegeta, and knew what she would do if he were the one coming up the stairs. Officer Diaz had a wife and children and grandchildren, whose pictures he showed at the least excuse. She couldn't just stand by while he was murdered. Frantically she thought back to Goku's brief self-defense instructions, and his advice on how to handle someone who grabbed her from behind.

The footsteps reached the top of the stairs. Bulma met Chichi's wide-eyed gaze to let her know that now was their chance. Without warning Bulma yelled and raked backward with her hand, gouging at the killer's eyes.

"He has a gun!"

Surprise loosened the killer's hold on her. She felt the sting of the knife on her neck as she jerked away from him. Instead of running, Chichi hurled herself at the killer, knocking him off balance and breaking his hold on Bulma. Only when Bulma was free did Chichi turn and race toward the bathroom.

"Run!" Bulma shouted as she threw herself toward the hall.

Bulma heard the bathroom door slam behind Chichi just as she reached the hallway. She ran smack into Officer Diaz, who was advancing cautiously down the hall with his weapon drawn.

"Go back!" she yelled at Diaz. He reached to pull her behind him when the sound of a gunshot rang out. Bulma screamed as the officer crumpled at her feet, blood pouring from his head. Knowing there was nothing she could do for him now, she ran past his body, desperate to draw the killer away from Chichi.

A hand grabbed Bulma from behind, yanking her to a stop. She stood there panting as she felt the killer slide his arm around her neck and lay the knife along the cut al­ready bleeding sluggishly there.

"I really am going to enjoy hurting you, Bulma." Tillman dragged her past the fallen officer and down the hall. "Now, where's that little friend of yours? We'll take care of her, then you can see what I have in store for you once we get to the special place I've chosen." His voice was rough with adrenaline and almost dreamy at the same time.

Knowing the bathroom was a dead end-literally-Chichi hadn't stayed there. As soon as the killer followed Bulma into the hallway, Chichi had tiptoed across the at­tached bedroom to the open hall door. She could hear the man talking to Bulma. They were coming back down the hall toward her, cutting off any escape. Chichi knew if the man found her, she would die.

'_There would be no witnesses to Bulma's kidnapping. I've got to get out of here! I've got to call the police and help Bulma, and I can't do that if I'm dead. And dead is what I'll be if I stay glued to the middle of the room like an idiot!'_

But she couldn't get out-the hallway was the only es­cape, and the killer was already there. With shaking hands, she closed and locked the bedroom door and thought frantically. The lock wouldn't keep the killer out for long. She had to hide somewhere in the room. That way she could follow the killer when he left with Bulma, and somehow find a way to give her friend another chance to escape. Briefly Chichi considered the window, but she already knew it was warped by age and wouldn't open easily. It was the old-fashioned type with multiple tiny panes that would take too long to break.

The killer began pounding on the locked door. "I'll kill Bulma if you don't open this door."

"He'll kill me anyway, Chi! Don't open the door!"

Chichi knew her friend was right. She looked around the room one more time, then slowly looked up. There was a small trapdoor leading to the attic. She grabbed the chair from a nearby desk, stood on it, and slid back the bolt that held the trapdoor in place. She pulled on the release cord as hard as she could, then jumped back when she was almost knocked over by the folding ladder that tumbled down in response to her tugs. It came partway down and stopped. She scrambled up the first few rungs to the attic, kicked the chair into a corner, and pulled herself up the rest of the way. Keeping a grip on the cord so that it wouldn't dangle from the ceiling, she strained to pull the staircase closed behind her. Just as she managed it, the bedroom door be­low crashed open.

"Come out right now or I'll kill your friend."

"Don't do it!" Bulma called.

"Shut up!"

Chichi held her breath and didn't move. She prayed the man wouldn't look up. For a few seconds she thought she'd pulled it off. Then she heard him laugh.

"Come out of the attic, you stupid bitch."

"Don't listen, Chi!" Bulma cried out, then choked as the killer jerked his arm even tighter around her neck.

'_Bitches.'_ Tillman thought, fighting the panic that came whenever he wasn't in control of women. _'Stupid bitches can't even follow simple orders. Too much time had passed since he'd fired the gun. Some neighbor would have called the police by now. And even if he got lucky and no one called, the police were overdue for their radio check. I have to get Bulma out of here now.' _He didn't have time to chase her friend through the rafters—if that was where she had gone. _'She could have escaped through the window, and even now might be calling 911.'_ Swearing loudly, he pushed Bulma toward the chair lying on its side and pointed the gun at her head.

"Pull the chair over here, then get on it and throw the bolt. Quickly!"

Bulma climbed up on the chair and slid the bolt closed. Anyone up there was now trapped. She fervently hoped that Chichi was long gone by now, yet she had a sick feel­ing her friend was on the other side of the trapdoor, wait­ing for a chance to make another break for help. Tillman yanked Bulma off the chair, dragged her back­ward, and fired four shots around the outline of the trap­door.

"Chi!" The blunt side of the killer's knife choked off Bulma's scream. When she was silent, he turned the sharp side to her neck again.

"Come away with me, my sweet prey. I have something very special for you."

North County

Wednesday night

Chichi waited in a dark corner of the attic until she heard footsteps leaving the bedroom below her. The attic was hot, dusty, and she was trapped in it. A shaft of light came through a small window on the far side. Care­fully she made her way over to it. She heard the killer on the stairs and knew she'd only have one chance to open the window. It probably wouldn't go quietly. Taking a breath, Chichi undid the latch on the window and pushed on it as hard as she could. She was astonished when it opened outward. The yard was about thirty feet below.

'_Feet first,_' Chi, she told herself. _'Dangle from your fin­gertips and then let go.'_

Turning around, she wiggled out the small window frame. Once she was past her hips, she pushed the rest of her body through the narrow opening, then held herself for a moment by her fingers. Bulma's voice came from below and to the left, asking the killer what he'd done with the other police officer. He didn't answer. Chichi held her breath and waited for them to pass. Once they were out of earshot, she closed her eyes, pushed herself back as far as she could, and let go. She tried to roll as she landed, but ended up taking the force of the fall on her left ankle. Biting her lip against the pain shooting through it, she lurched to her feet and headed after Bulma. When Chichi peeked around the large shrub at the end of the drive, she saw brake lights come on a block down the street. She had no chance of chasing after a car in her condition, but she might get close enough to see the li­cense plate. Awkwardly she went down the shadowed side of the street as fast as she could, ignoring the pain, run­ning her heart out and following the car for several blocks before it turned onto a main street. The killer gunned the engine. A few seconds later, even the car's brake lights vanished.

Chichi stood in the middle of the street and screamed Bulma's name. Then she turned and ran unevenly back toward the house, repeating, "North City seven two three. North City seven two three."

North County

Wednesday night

Goku drove recklessly down the narrow suburban streets—dispatch hadn't been able to raise either of the officers assigned to guard Bulma for over five minutes. Backup units were on the way, but he would arrive before they did. Without a pause be rolled through a stop sign and turned right onto Myrtle Lane. About half a block from the house he saw someone running awkwardly down the middle of the street. Ice congealed in his gut when he recognized the dark hair and petite frame. He stopped the car with a screech of the brakes, then bailed out and grabbed Chichi's arms. Her white face had dark smudges on it, and her pupils were so dilated that he could see no color in her eyes, even in the bright glare of the headlights.

"What happened? Where's Bulma?"

"He took her in his car. North City seven two three."

"Easy, Chi." Goku slid an arm around her. "Slow down and tell me what happened."

"The killer got into the house," Chichi said in a flat voice. "Bulma and I split up, and we almost got away. Then he shot Officer Diaz and took Bulma. I managed to hide. I went out the window and tried to follow, but they were in a car and it was going too fast. North City seven two three."

"What does that mean?" Goku asked over the sound of her shuddering breathing. "Chi, look at me. You're okay. Slow down and breathe deeply. You're safe."

"But Bulma isn't!" Chichi panted. "His license plate be­gan seven two three. I didn't see the rest, but they looked like North City plates. Red car, American, like a rental. He took her, Goku. He took her and I couldn't do anything "

Goku reached through the open window to grab his ra­dio and report the kidnapping of a witness from protective custody. He described Bulma and the vehicle, including the partial plates. He paused to ask Chichi for a description of the suspect, then relayed that information as well. He finished by calling for multiple paramedic units and backup to the safe house. As soon as the dispatcher put out the all points bulletin, Goku threw the radio back in the car.

"Lock yourself in my car," he said to Chichi. "I have to check on Diaz and Brown."

Chichi took a step, cried out, and then collapsed against Goku.

"Your leg?" Goku asked, supporting her.

Chichi nodded and breathed through her teeth against the nauseating pain. "I think I broke something."

Goku lifted her off her feet and headed for the house, where med-techs would soon be arriving with lights and sirens. "How the hell did you do that?"

"I jumped out the attic window."

"Kami, woman. That's got to be a thirty-foot drop," Goku said, eyeing the tiny window on the tight side of the house.

"Tell me about it."

Goku strode up the steps, put Chichi in a rocker on the porch, and unlocked the front door. Sirens screamed, coming closer to the house with every second.

"You'll be safe here while I check on Diaz," Goku said. "Okay?"

Chichi nodded and wrapped her arms around herself for warmth while official vehicles pulled up from all direc­tions and armed men leaped out. Very quickly Goku was back. She looked up at him, afraid to ask how Diaz was.

"He's alive," Goku said. "Looks like a bad furrow on the side of his head, but his pulse is good."

Chichi listened numbly while Goku gave orders to the others to help Diaz and look for the missing officer. Then he sat next to Chichi and pulled out his cell phone. He took hold of her hand and squeezed it as he prepared to make the most difficult call of his life.

* * *

N/A: Well I hoped you all enjoyed this chapter. I sure hope I didn't make many mistakes but if you do just let me know and I will fix it. I have already written the next chapter which I am sorry to say but it's the last one. Yes, I have written the final chapter to this story. I still have to double check it and go over it but the whole thing is done. I like to thank everyone who has taken the time to review my chapters. Also I would like to let you know that I am already working on another story. It will be an A/U and its very different from this one. So keep an eye out for it.

P.S. Read and Review. Five reviews will get you the last chapter.

_**Laters!**_


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